


The Bloody Moon

by GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [12]
Category: Flashpoint, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), S.W.A.T. (2003), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Bourne Legacy (2012), The Unusuals
Genre: Blame Google Translate, Blood Moon Hunt, F/M, Gen, Jeremy Renner's Characters are The Brothers Grimm, Mega-Crossover, Russian-speaking character, The Family Business, Will & Marina adopt everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 200 years since the last time Hansel and Gretel were faced with a coven kidnapping children to prepare for their Blood Moon Ritual. Kids are going missing and it's up to the two legendary witch hunters to find them and stop the rite. </p><p>So what happens when you combine Hansel's Army-Bred supersoldier sons with John Winchester and his own teenage boys? </p><p>Well . . . nothing good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlekWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For AlekWalker.  
> First of all, happy birthday to Alek! Here's Part 1 of your Ficlet.
> 
> Second of all, yes I know. By the time Avengers happened, the Winchesters are NOT teenagers. However, it's my story and I claim artistic license. This whole thing is a crazy Alternate Universe, and I'm pretty sure this is not the first time - nor will it be the last time - I screw with the timelines to suit my insanity.
> 
> (Just wait till I put the UALPxMMPR crossover that's been percolating in my head down on my paper. THAT is going to be awesome. Crazy, but awesome. XD I blame Amy Jo Johnson's role as Jules Callaghan.)
> 
> As per usual, all translations are at the end of the chapter!

[](https://imgur.com/XN3raiv)

Part One: First Impressions

Hansel knew that his eldest was on edge when they hadn't even walked through the door before Will had a cigarette to his lips and his hands cupped around the end so it caught the flame. “Come now, _mein Adler_ , hyu are not on deployment. Surely this cannot be as bad as that.”

Will aimed the steady stream of smoke upwards as he replied. “Honestly, Dad, I think I'd prefer to be in some sniper's cross-hairs than here right now. I was not built for this.”

The German chuckled as he clapped his son's shoulder warmly, “If I understand correctly, Will, there is not much you do that hyu **were** built for.”

“That is kind of not the point,” the Colonel chuckled, quicksilver eyes flashing through colors as he scanned their surroundings. The witch hunter grinned, knowing that his son was cataloging all of the entry and exit points in the rustic style bar. “So who are we here to see again?”

“His name is Bobby Singer. We met on a chat room. He is a hunter too.”

One blond eyebrow shot upwards as Will snarked, “ **You** were on a chat room? Wait, better question . . . **HUNTERS** have chat rooms?”

“Hyu are hilarious, _mein Sohn_.”

“Funny, you seem to be the only one who thinks so,” was the return retort, earning a snort of agreement. Running a hand back through his close-cropped hair, Will pulled the cigarette from his lips with a grunt. “Do you happen to know what Mr. Singer looks like? Marina is going to have my ass if I don't report in on time.”

“No, I do not. However, there must be someone here we can ask.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Will agreed, dodging past a pretty blond waitress as he approached the bar. Legging up onto one of the stools, he tapped the ash into the ashtray beside him. “Take a seat, Dad . . . we have about an hour before we have to report in. More than enough time to get a drink and go over the details.”

“ _Gut_. That sounds like a reasonable plan, _Adler_ ,” the German agreed as he moved to take the seat beside his eldest. “I wonder if these people have any decent liquor on hand.”

“I'd settle for a whiskey, that wasn't too cheap and watered down,” Will sighed despairingly, digging out a sheaf of papers from his back pocket. “If Mr. Singer's calculations are right, then we're about a week from a Blood Moon.”

Hansel couldn't help it; he shuddered at the term, well remembering the last time he'd gone head to head with a coven of witches during a Blood Moon. Muriel's death had been the catalyst for his curse, and he was not keen on making any more formidable enemies. However, children were going missing, and it would not be fair to their parents to abandon them when there was something he could do to save them. Holding out a hand to get the attention of the older woman tending the bar, he turned to his son, “What did Jason say?”

Will grinned as he remarked, “Apparently, Jay was impressed. There may have been a level of geeking out that Casey is still trying to translate.”

“You didn't help your brother's fiancee figure out Jay-speak?”

“I figured that if they were going to be happy together, it was better that she learn how to translate Jay into English sooner rather than later,” the Colonel laughed, before turning his attention onto the older woman waiting to take their order. “Hi . . . can I get a whiskey for my father and I, please? Whatever you have.”

The woman cocked an eyebrow, taking in Will's tailored button-down and expensive jeans. Wiping her hands on a rag, she sneered, “I hope you're not expecting anything high class here.”

“Whatever you have will be great,” was the steady reply, even as Hansel watched his son's eyes shift from his happy-go-lucky blue to nearly colorless silver. A sure sign that his temper was starting to stir behind the wall that the younger man typically erected to keep himself in control. Fiddling with the corner of a page, he inquired, “My name's Will . . . this is my father, Hansel. We're supposed to be meeting a man named Bobby Singer. If you would be so kind, could you tell us if he's arrived yet?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, she gestured toward a pair of men seated at the small table in the corner. “That's Bobby over there.”

Hansel cocked an eyebrow at the sight, taking in the other man's features as he asked, “And who is his companion, pray tell?”

“John Winchester. I'm assuming if you're lookin' for Bobby, you're lookin' for a hunter. John is as good as they come.”

Will snorted into his highball as he joked, “Your reputation fails to precede you, Dad.”

“Hyu hush, _mein Adler_ ,” came the expected scold, even as he turned his attention to the bartender. “Do hyu perchance have any German beer to hand?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow at him, before drawling slowly, “We have St. Pauli Girl.”

Turning to look at Will with a cocked eyebrow, he frowned at his son's brief shake of the head. “ _Es ist in Deutschland hergestellten, aber es ist nicht **Deutsch** , wenn Sie wissen, was ich meine. Wahrscheinlich das beste, du wirst hier aber,_ Dad. (It's German-made, but it's not **German** , if you know what I mean. Probably the best you're gonna get here though, Dad.)” Hansel couldn't help the small grin at the woman's startled reaction to Will's flawless German. 

Grunting at the knowledge, he dug for his wallet and replied, “I will take one and the darkest ale hyu have on tap, please, _Fräulein_.” 

The woman smirked lightly, reaching for a bottle under the bar as she replied calmly, “I'm married. It's just Ellen.” Her hands were deft and quick as she worked the tap to pour the elder Grimm's beer on tap. Sliding the glass across the bar, she watched with bemusement as Hansel proceeded to upend the bottle and drain the whole thing dry. Folding her arms over her chest, she snarked caustically, “Ever heard of AA?” before moving away to help another customer on the other side of the bar. 

Cocking an eyebrow at his son, Hansel growled, “ _Vas_ is AA?”

“Don't ask,” was Will's only response, as he slammed back his whiskey and got up from the bar. “We know which one's Singer . . . let's get this over with so I can check back in with Marina before she sends Lucky and a damned rescue unit.”

Hansel chuckled at his son's plight, unable to resist teasing, “If hyu could go more than ten minutes without finding hyurself shot, broken or captured, I am sure they would not be so protective, _mein Adler_.”

Will snorted as he tossed a fifty on the bar and strolled away. “Fat chance of that. I'm even more accident prone than Clint . . . and that's saying something.”

Unable to argue with that – his youngest son was notorious for close calls and ridiculous tight spots – Hansel only shook his head as he followed his oldest son to the table where their contacts were seated. Will lifted his cigarette to his lips as he approached warily, “Are you Bobby Singer?”

The grizzled one wearing a battered baseball cap and several days worth of scruff looked up at the question. “I guess that depends on who it is asking.”

Twisting to look at his father, the officer gestured his father forward to take over. The German stepped around his son, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder, as he spoke, “My name is Hansel Kuhn . . . we have an appointment, I believe.”

Singer's eyes widened slightly as he looked between Hansel and Will, clearly curious about the relationship between the two men, prompting Hansel to take pity. “My son, Will.”

Flicking a finger at his companion, Singer completed the introductions, “John Winchester . . . he's a hunter.”

“Hyu are in good company then, Winchester.” Frowning for a moment, he considered the other man for a moment, before he mused absently, “I knew a John of Winchester once . . . he was a good man . . . a good hunter.” Grinning at his son, he explained, “We got very drunk together once.”

“And people say I'm the one with the drinking problem,” Will scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes at the lighthearted joke. 

Cocking an eyebrow at his son, he scolded, “ _Adler_ , Marishka is going to wash hyur mouth out.”

“Only if I get caught,” was the cheeky response, even as Will pulled the papers from his back pocket and tossed them onto the table in front of Bobby. “Your calculations are impressive; my specialist nearly went into an apoplexy.” Chuckling, he twisted the chair about and straddled the back as he snarked, “Jay's what you would call a nerd.”

The German's tone was teasing as he tossed back, “Says the man who speaks 16 languages fluently and is passable in 10 more.”

“Dialects aren't languages, Dad,” the Colonel reminded his father with an air of long-suffering, as though this was a conversation they had had many times before. Checking his watch, he sighed, “Thirty-five minutes and counting . . . Can we please get down to business?”

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at the countdown, before gesturing toward John. “I don't go into the field, but John is an exceptional hunter. He should be more than enough to assist you in this case.”

One corner of Hansel's lips twitched upwards as he replied, “I do not believe I will require assistance, but if there is one of thing I have learned in this business, it is that one does not turn down good help when it is offered. Hyu are welcome, _Herr_ Winchester.”

“I had to bring my sons; I hope that won't be a problem?”

Will cocked an eyebrow at the man, before shrugging, “As long as you don't mind that Dad is bringing his.” Just then there was a loud sounds from his pocket, his phone singing along to the chorus of “Dangerous and Moving” by the popular Russian girl-group, T.a.T.u. “Geez, Marina . . . you're early.” Fishing the phone from his back pocket, he answered sweetly, “What happened to an hour?”

Marina's tone was puckish as she replied cheerfully, “Who said anything about an hour?”

Rolling his eyes at her, he chuckled as he inquired, “What's up, Marishka?”

“We're here. We're setting up camp. Any orders in the interim, sir?“

John's eyebrows rose at the fact that Will didn't glance at his father to confirm, before replying firmly, “At the moment, no. Usual chores stand. We'll be there in about an hour. We're going to have a couple extra people joining us, so clear a spot for an extra tent.”

“Yes sir. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment. See you soon.”

“Sounds good. _Lyublyu tebya, Misha_.”

“ _Ya lyublyu tebya, Marishka_.”

Ignoring the flabbergasted look on the other two men's faces, he stood and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “So . . . who's coming?”

Hansel stood along with his son, making a half-hearted grab for the keys, not even surprised when Will jerked them up and out of reach without a thought. “Not a chance in hell, Dad. Maria made me promise; you and motors are like fire and gasoline . . . a recipe for disaster and explosions. Besides, I'm not the one banned from the motorcade.”

Chuckling at the uncharacteristically sly grin on his eldest's face, he clapped one hand to the back of Will's neck and squeezed fondly. “If I did not know better, I would think that hyu were scared of Maria.”

“Only when she's not around to know about it,” came the expected crack at his step-mother's expense. Looking back down at John, the Colonel cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the man still seated. “Are you coming?”

Nodding once, he pushed himself to his feet. “I need to stop and get my boys from the hotel. I left them in the next town over.”

Will's new baby sister was about seven months old, with Will's own twins only barely more than newborns. It had killed both of their parents to leave them, but Hansel had been so panicked by the systematic disappearances of young children that it had been impossible to refuse the request from the family witch hunters. Winchester looked as though it was nothing to leave his sons behind, and didn't seem to think that there was anything even remotely wrong with that. Groaning low in his throat, he moaned, “ _Bozhe moi_ . . . I see more adoptions in my future.”

At this observation, Hansel couldn't help it. He burst into a torrent of unrestrained laughter. “Very likely, _mein Adler_ . . . very likely indeed.”

Closing his eyes, Will groaned, “ _Chert voz'mi_.”

********************

Will would be lying if he claimed to be uninterested in the two young men who exited the motel room where they stopped briefly to pick up Winchester's sons. The oldest looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, though his features were set stoically and gave no indication of what he was thinking. The other was thin and gangly, maybe 16, and visibly pouting. The older seemed to be prodding him along silently, though to Will's surprise, the younger didn't seem to be protesting the treatment in anyway. 

If Will was being honest, it was oldest one that was the most interesting. He seemed to be playing the same role in **his** brother's life that Will had played in his own. Marina was going to adore the kid. 

Winchester himself drove an older model GMC truck not unlike Will's own younger brother, Aaron; however where Aaron's was a cheerful green, the older man's was a forbidding black. The two young men, however, climbed into a cherry black Chevy Impala; a late 1960's model, unless Will missed his guess. Jason would able to tell him, if he didn't geek out and swoon over the damned thing. Gunning the engine as the rest of the unconventional caravan fell into line, Will put the Army Jeep into gear and muttered, “Mental note to me: find Jason a new engineering project.”

Hansel chuckled at the comment, though he said nothing as Will tore out of the parking lot and booked it towards where his partner had set up camp and was now waiting for him to get to her.

The drive to camp was made in companionable silence, though the Jeep hadn't even come to a complete stop when Marina dropped out of the tree overhead and landed in a delicate crouch on the lightly rumbling hood. Tossing her hair back, she smiled at him warmly as she teased, “Hi, lover.”

Pushing himself to standing, hands anchored on the windshield to hold himself upright, the superior officer returned the grin. “God you're gorgeous, _samaya malen'kaya_.”

Warm, familiar hands came up to cup his cheeks as she murmured against his lips, “ _Spasibo_ , Misha.” 

The two indulged in a long, leisurely kiss, before a voice rang out from the tree overhead. “Ew . . . could the _lyubiteli_ get a room?”

“Shut up, Clinton Francis!” was the simultaneous rejoinder though they did separate. Will hopped easily to the ground, reaching up to lift Marina down as well. “Sit rep, Major?”

That prompted a couple more rounds of “EW!” from his brothers, which only made Will's smirk grow that little bit more. Marina, knowing her partner well and more than willing to let him yank on the boys' chains, smacked him lightly on the chest with the back of one hand even as the other hooked around his neck and dragged him down for a much more satisfying kiss. When they finally broke apart, Will stepped back only far enough to wrap one arm around her hips as they turned to greet the rest of the newly arrived party. 

The Colonel knew the second that Marina caught sight of Winchester's two sons. Her eyes went sharp as she narrowed in on both boys' threadbare clothes, while simultaneously noting that the younger boy was just a little better dressed. Squeezing the swell of hip under his palm, he bent to press a sweet kiss to the curve behind her ear, murmuring, “Don't say I never gave you anything.”

And just like that, whatever happened next was well out of Will's hands. The Hufflepuff assassin known most commonly as Marina Ivanovna Petrovka was in full-on mothering mode. From this point forward, there would be no stopping her. Stepping away from her partner, the brunette practically barreled towards the two boys. “You both look half-starved . . . I've got chow if you want some. Homemade chili with cornbread. What do you think?”

The younger's eyes lit up., though he looked up at his brother to get his permission first. “Please Dean? I'm hungry.”

Dean was eyeing the former assassin suspiciously, before nodding in silent agreement. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“It's Marina . . . the only people who call me 'ma'am' are the ones on the other side of my desk about to beg for either their lives or their careers, whichever one I'm in the mood for at the moment,” was her blunt tease, a sly wink softening the truth. Reaching out slowly, conscious that Dean was probably very like her own lover with respect to his younger brother, she wrapped one arm around the younger boy's skinny shoulders and guided him away. “I'll show you where you can wash up and then you can come join us at the fire. There'll be a bowl there with your name on it, promise.” Glancing at Will, she waited a beat before asking, “Of course, that would imply that I know your name.”

Blushing to the roots of his dark, shaggy hair, the kid stammered, “Sam . . . my name's Sam and that's my brother Dean.”

“I have a son named Sam; he should be here before nightfall.” Winking at Will, she teased, “This could get confusing.”

“Only if you call our Sam anything other than 'Sammy-honey', which I've never heard you do in all the time we've known him,” was the Colonel's joking reply. Moving forward, he offered the older teenager a hand as he greeted him firmly, “Hello Dean . . . I'm Will. We thought we'd set up your dad, your brother and you over here, if that works for you.”

Turning his attention to the open space the eldest Grimm had indicated, Dean surveyed the area with a shrewd eye. Whether he was aware of Will's scrutiny of him, he gave no sign, but to be honest, Will didn't really care if he got caught looking. The kid was really starting to intrigue him; hopefully Marina did her thing quickly and the two boys came home with them to New York when all this was over instead of heading off into the ether once again. Finally, the kid nodded once in agreement, grunting, “It's a good spot. Lots of cover, but we're not backed into anything.” 

“Good . . . go ahead and wash up with your brother. I'm pretty sure my Marina will have a coronary if you don't let her feed you first.” Leaning over and speaking in an obvious stage-whisper, he insisted, “Marina may be small, but she is terrifying. She even has me cowed most of the time.”

The Russian's tone was fond as she scolded, “Uh-huh . . . and then you go and do exactly what I don't want you to do anyway. Let the kid clean up, Mishka . . . the chili isn't going to stay warm forever.” Gesturing towards where Sam was washing up at a portable sink, she insisted, “Go on, Dean . . . I'm sure you're hungry.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.”

Winking, she teased, “It's Marina, Dean, just Marina.”

*****************

Before long, the Winchesters were set up and the camp had eaten. Marina had left the pot bubbling over the firepit, knowing that her there were still members of their family inbound to camp. The teenagers had been shuffled off to bed by their father, earning sharp frowns from both Will and Hansel, though neither said anything about it as Will stood to assign duties for the night. “Clint . . . you and Aaron are on first watch. Jason, you and Brian are second watch. Mr. Winchester, do you mind sharing third watch with my father for an hour or so?”

Eyes narrowing, the hunter demanded, “And when are you standing watch?”

Quicksilver eyes flashed as he reined in his temper, struggling to remain calm as he replied, “Marina and I always take last watch of the night. And it's only until my aunt gets here. She and Dad always stand watch together. After she gets here, you are more than welcome to head to bed; we have more than enough people to stand watch tonight.”

Nodding briskly, he watched as Will offered one hand to his partner. “All right then. Four hour rotations. Buddy up. Be smart. I would suggest that everyone not on first watch get some rest before their shifts, otherwise it's going to be a short night.” Marina glided into his side like air, tucking herself against him as he finished. “See you all in the morning. Good night.”

“Night Will! Night Marishka!” was the chorus from the Grimms as a whole, before the two officers disappeared into their shared tent together.

Hansel remained seated on a log, nodding his good nights as his sons split up into their accustomed pairings for the night, a steaming mug of coffee in hand as he settled back. After spending two centuries in nightmarish unconsciousness, Hansel avoided sleep for as long as he could before giving in to Morpheus' spell. John watched Jason and Brian disappear into one of the tents, eyes widening only a little as he watched Aaron and Clint leap straight up into two trees on opposite sides of camp. Once they were out of sight and he was reasonably sure that they would not be overheard, John rounded on the older man, sneering, “You need to rein in your son.”

Cocking an eyebrow over his mug, Hansel watched him for a long moment, before insisting, “May I suggest that hyu should mind hyur own business?”

“Who the hell does he think he is, taking charge away from you? You're his father.”

“That would be imply that I was in charge to begin with,” was the startling response from the German witch hunter. “And I can assure hyu . . . _Adler_ is much better suited to it.”

“And who decided that? Him?”

Smirking into his mug, Hansel chuckled. “No, that would be the 29 years he and Marina raised them without any help or input from me at all.”

John gawked at him in shock for a moment, before collecting himself once again. “That doesn't mean that he shouldn't be more respectful of his elders. Just because he was in charge then, doesn't mean he should be in charge now.”

“On the contrary, _Adler_ was 29 years old when my boys found out about me. _Mein Falki_ . . . my youngest . . . was 19. Each of them was a man grown, or very nearly so. Will had been protecting them, caring for them, and taking care of them with Marina from the time he was 12. I was very lucky that they chose to make a place for me in their lives at all.” Finishing his coffee, he tossed the dregs into the fire and stood from his log, “Do not misunderstand me. My sons love me and I love them, very much. But they will follow Will's lead to hell and back, without question.” 

Smirking at the shocked look on Winchester's face, the witch hunter insisted, “Will and Marina are the senior officers here . . . I am just another peon on the ladder, same as the rest. Hyu would do well to remember that, or I can assure that this hunt will be very uncomfortable for everyone.” Glancing at his watch, he sighed, before sketching a sarcastic half-bow, “And with that said, I bid hyu good night. Third watch is only eight hours away, and I should at least attempt to spend part of that asleep.”

*******************

Marina was notorious for hating mornings. But the last watch of the night was always a special exception. She loved spending predawn with her lover, sipping on coffee and talking about the plan for the day. It was a long held tradition and she loved every moment of it. 

That morning, she came awake to the familiar touch of a hand in her hair, and a warm low voice whispering, “Marina . . . wake up, _samaya malen'kaya_.” 

Rolling within the confines of their makeshift bed, she flopped over onto her back and grinned up at her lover sweetly. “Morning, Mishka.”

Quicksilver eyes were bright, vivacious blue as he bent to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Good morning, _zhemchuzhina_. We're a couple minutes early, but it won't be long before we're up.”

Nodding, Marina pushed herself up into a seated position as she took in her lover's face. She had shared his love and his bed for almost twenty years; the earmarks of a long, sleepless night were unmistakable. “You're thinking too hard again.”

He flashed her a warm smile as he agreed, “A blessing and a curse.”

“What's wrong?”

One side of his mouth twisted up as he considered her question, before replying, “What do you think about Winchester's sons?”

“I think they could stand to be fed more frequently and afforded better clothes. I think that they could use a more steady, consistent lifestyle. I think that they would benefit from a little paternal affection.” There was a pause, before she shrugged haphazardly, “But what I think doesn't matter. As much as I would like to bring them into the fold and never let them go, the youngest is still a minor and I don't think the oldest will ever leave him with their father alone.”

Humming in agreement, Will watched as his partner climbed from their shared bed and moved towards their gear. She pulled a pair of camo cargo pants and a long sleeved black thermal from her bag, more than aware of her lover's eyes on her as she stripped out of her pajama pants and tanktop. Giving him a flirtatious smirk over her shoulder, she teased, “Like what you see?”

“Of course not . . . I love what I see,” he insisted, eyes so earnest and sincere that Marina could barely contain her adoration for him. 

It was a minute's preoccupation to get dressed and haul on her boots. They geared up together in silence, checking and double checking each other's weaponry before each was satisfied. Stepping back, Marina grinned up at him as she teased, “ _Ya lyublyu tebya, moya Misha_.”

Bending to her height, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and pressed a series of reverent kisses to every inch of her face. “ _Lyublyu tebya, samaya malen'kaya_.”

The couple exited the tent together, and Will knew instantly that one of her Misfits had arrived. And since the only one scheduled to arrive was a certain blond-haired SRU constable, it wasn't a surprise to hear her cheer, “Sammy!” 

Samuel Wayne Braddock stood from the log where he sat at the fire, grinning at the brunette as she practically flew across camp to throw her arms around his shoulders. Wrapping his own arms around her waist firmly, he lifted her effortlessly off her feet with a warm greeting of, “Hi Ma.”

“I left chili out for you and Gret . . . did you eat?”

“Yeah . . . I had some when I got in,” he agreed, eerie blue eyes sparkling in the firelight as he set her back on her feet. “Last watch, huh?”

“As per usual,” was Will's response from behind the two, prompting both to turn to look for him. “Glad you could make it, kiddo.”

Sam grinned, accepting his surrogate father's embrace warmly. “Sup Pops?”

Groaning, the Colonel joked, “You've been spending too much time with Clint. How was the trip?”

“Uneventful . . . not many people out on the roads at this time of the night.” 

Marina was practically vibrating as she grabbed onto his hands, demanding, “How's Jules? How far along is she now?”

The blond puffed up as proud as a peacock as he announced, “Seven months. As big as a horse, but glowing with it.”

“I'm so happy for you both,” Marina insisted, wrapping her boy up into another firm hug. “Have you both finally decided on a name or are you still waiting to find out if it's a girl or a boy?”

“I finally caved; we're having a little girl. We're waffling between Sadie Marina or Evelyn Ann.”

Delighted at the very prospect, the little girl's prospective namesake was simultaneously blushing and beaming to the roots of her hair. For once at a loss for words, Marina said nothing and simply wrapped him up in her arms again. Sam laughed, his embrace swallowing her as she burrowed into him as deeply as she could manage. “ _Spasibo_ , Sammy-honey.”

Ducking his head over hers, he murmured into her hair, “You're welcome, Ma. Where are the twins?”

“At home, with Grandma Maria, Auntie Marty and Auntie Casey. They're a little young yet to be coming with us on road trips,” Will replied, glancing at his partner as she slumped. It had taken years for Marina to conceive, and then there were a slew of complications during the pregnancy itself. As a result, it was always hard for Marina to leave her newborn daughters, but when duty called . . . well, needless to say, Marina had never failed to answer yet. 

If the way Sam slumped was any indication, he was equally as disappointed to have missed out on the chance to see his infant “sisters”. Face twisting slightly, he grunted, “Damn. I brought presents.”

Taking pity on them both, the eldest Grimm teased, “You could always come home for a couple days to see them. I'm sure Marishka wouldn't mind having you around for a little while. And of course, Julianna is always welcome to join you, if her doctor says it's okay for her to fly.”

That brightened both of them almost instantly, and the blond nodded in agreement. “That sounds awesome. Think we could get someone to pick up Jules and bring her out to New York too?”

Snorting, Marina joked, “I'm sure we know a pilot or two who can fly a plane to Toronto to pick up your wife. It's not like we don't have a couple pilots in the family, for that matter.”

It was about then that Will caught sight of a woman standing in his peripherals. Twisting slightly, he grinned at her brightly. “Hey Aunt Gretel . . . where's Steve?”

“My Star-Spangled boyfriend is still wallowing at the moment,” Gretel announced with a roll of her pretty eyes. “I was in the mood to kill some witches, so I left him at home.”

“Welcome to the party.”

Folding her arms, the German woman frowned and asked, “What are we looking at, Will? Be honest.”

“Based on what Dad's told Marina and me, it looks like we are definitely dealing with another Blood Moon ritual. As far as coven size, that I won't know until we can find where they're holding the children and we can get a closer look.”

“My first and only encounter with a Blood Moon ritual was pretty memorable to be sure. Except for Mina and Hansel and a fair bit of luck, I would not be standing here right now.”

Hansel moved to stand at his sister's shoulder, the two experienced witch hunters watching him with a frown. “What do we know as of now, _mein Adler_?”

“Currently, we have six kids missing and counting. Four boys and two girls. Fortunately, there have been no reports of any older women having disappeared from the same area as of now.”

Gretel bit her lip as she reminded her older nephew, “I was only nine years old, when Muriel came for me the first time. Our mother knew they were coming and made our father leave us in the woods.” Snorting, she insisted, “If not for that, none of us would be standing here now.”

“Thank God for unanswered prayers, _ja_?” Hansel snarked with a huff of air. 

Chuckling, Marina moved towards where a pot of coffee was simmering on its hotplate in their meager camp-kitchen. “Indeed. What does everyone want for breakfast? I can do French Toast, bacon and eggs, griddle cakes, breakfast burritos or even Egg McMuffins. What's the consensus?”

“I'm good with whatever, Marina,” Sam agreed with a roll of his eyes. “Doesn't matter what we're eating; you're gonna force at least three helpings down me.”

“If you wouldn't drop weight like its hot, Sammy-honey, I wouldn't be forced to feed you every time I turned around,” was the cheerful retort, earning a grin from her lover and a good-natured groan from her adoptive son. “Misha . . . coffee?”

“You're a saint,” was the agreement, as he moved to accept the mug she was offering him. “What can I do to help?”

“I'll worry about the cooking, you make sure the rest of our contingent in brought up to speed, please.”

Leaning over, he pressed a firm kiss to the hollow of her temple as he teased, “Yes ma'am.” Turning away from the makeshift kitchen, he gestured towards the logs as he inquired, “Shall we?”

Each member of the group nodded, even as Hansel moved away, “I'll go wake Winchester . . . I cannot imagine he would be pleased if we conferred on the matter without him.”

Receiving a series of grunts in answer, Hansel chuckled as he moved toward the Winchester test. “ _Herr_ Winchester . . . it is Hansel Kuhn. Are hyu awake?”

There was a soft, disgruntled groan, before the younger hunter barked, “What do you want?”

“My son was going to go over the details of the hunt. Would hyu like to join us or wait for the official debrief later this morning?”

There was a pause, before he agreed, “Give me five.”

There seemed to be no answer required, so Hansel turned and walked back to where his son and sister were perusing a map. “All right, _Adler_ . . . what do we know?”

Will's grin was wicked as he replied, “Let's just say, in the immortal words of my baby brother Clinton Francis Grimm . . . this going to be awesome.”

********************

The Colonel was ten minutes into his debrief with his father and aunt when John Winchester prodded both of his sons from their tent and towards the firepit where the rest were sitting. Frowning, the eldest Grimm looked down at his watch curiously, blinking in surprise to see that it was fifteen minutes past four o'clock in the morning. Straightening slightly, he commented lightly, “If they want to, your sons can get some more rack time. It's still early, and we're going to have to wait for the rest of the squad to get up before we can move out.”

Winchester's tone was sharp and brusque as he replied, “How about you mind your own business and let me raise my kids?”

Hansel watched as a muscle in Will's jaw twitched, one eye narrowing hard as the two men engaged in a stare-down with one another. Whatever the Colonel had been about to say was interrupted as Marina sailed into the area, a line of plates balanced confidently along her arms. “Breakfast is served. Breakfast burritos with chorizo and eggs, with hash browns and homemade salsa. _Bon appétit, mon amis_!” she teased, winking cheerfully at her lover in response to the frustrated glare he was giving her. 

Reaching out to smack her backside playfully, Will teased in fluent French, “ _Poule mère_.”

Grinning at the uncharacteristic language, Marina taunted in the same language, “ _Mais bien sûr!_.”

The older Winchester was quiet, though one eyebrow twitched upwards at their ease with the foreign language. The younger was not so complacent, asking curiously, “You know French?”

Will chuckled as he replied, “I know a lot of languages. For that matter, so does Marina.” Smirking at Marina, he asked in flawless Russian, “ _Lyubopytnyy malysh, ne tak li?_ (Curious kid, isn't he?)”

“ _Deystvitel'no_ ,” she replied, moving back to the kitchen and grabbing up another three plates. Depositing one of them into Sam Winchester's lap, she ordered fondly, “Eat up, _malysh_ , you could use some more meat on your bones.”

Braddock snorted at the expression, before cocking an eyebrow at his adoptive father, asking in French, “ _Combien d'enfants prévoyez-vous d'adopter, papa?_ ” (How many kids do you plan to adopt, Dad?”

Chuckling, Will replied dryly, “ _Apparemment, au moins deux de plus._ ” (“Apparently, at least 2 more.”) Rolling his eyes, he teased his partner, “Marina gets what Marina wants. It's not worth arguing with her.”

There was a dull smack as the back of Marina's hand collided with her lover's shoulder as she walked past toward the kitchen area. “Hush you,” she scolded, dropping an absent kiss on the crown of her Sam's head as she strode past. “I don't remember you ever putting up much of a fight, you know. And it's not as though my Misfits aren't part of the family, anyway.”

The sound of Dean's voice was surprising as he spoke for the first time since arriving at the camp. “Who are the Misfits?”

Braddock's hand came up as he replied, “I'm one of Marina's Misfits. The Misfits are a tactical team, headed up by Will and Marina. There's at least a dozen of us, and it seems like Marina just keeps pulling people into the fold every time Will and I turn around.”

Hansel's tone was teasing as he joked, “There is a reason they are most commonly referred to as 'Marina's Misfits'.” 

Scoffing Marina scolded, “I'm not making more if breakfast goes cold because the lot of you are flapping your jaws instead of eating. Fair warning.”

“Yes ma'am,” was the resounding agreement, before Will, Sam and Hansel each tucked into their meals with Gretel perusing the map amidst methodical chewing. Using her fork, she following a hand-written mark on the map, asking cautiously, “Do I want to know what that is?”

Will turned the map towards him, following it with his eyes before announcing, “That's an underground cavern. It's a central point to all of the missing children, and it also has a series of above ground entrances. Dad and I thought we'd go check it out later, after the rest of the boys get up and we've done a full debrief.”

Winchester grunted as he insisted, “My sons are going with you.”

Hansel frowned fiercely as he insisted, “Hyur sons are children. Surely they would be safer here in camp?”

“They're trained . . . they know how to hunt. They can do it.”

“Just because they can, does not mean that they should,” Gretel broke in, arms folded over her chest as she glared at the older man. 

“Again, they're my kids. So mind your own damned business.”

The dark haired hunter opened her mouth to snap angrily, but her brother's hand on her shoulder was enough to cause her to still. “ _Bleib ruhig_ , Gretel.” Turning to Winchester, Hansel insisted, “Hyu are right. They are hyur children and they are welcome . . . we will keep them safe while we are in the caves. Hyu have my word.”

Winchester scoffed, finishing his plate and standing from his seat. “They don't need your protection. They'll be fine.”

Hansel's grip on his sister tightened sharply in admonition, even as he nodded in acquiescence. “As you say.” 

Whatever John Winchester was gearing up to say was interrupted as Clint came bursting out of his tent, cheering, “I smell burritos!”

Marina giggled at his typical exuberance, watching as he practically skipped into the kitchen area to dish up. “Oh _moy dorogoy_ . . . you and your stomach never fail to amuse.”

Clint grinned at her, mouth already full of cheesy breakfast burrito, as he joked, “Hey! I'm a growing boy!”

His brother snorted as he teased, “Pretty sure the only thing growing is your waistline.”

“You shut up!” was the clever comeback, though he dodged his brothers retaliatory but playful punch. “No one asked you, William Michael.”

“Who said you could use my full name, Clinton Francis?”

“Both of you knock it off. You'll wake up Jay . . . and I know for a fact that he didn't go to sleep until Will and I got up to stand watch,” Marina scolded, tilting her cheek upwards to accept Clint's kiss to her cheek. 

The response from all of her boys, Hansel included, was a teasing, “ _Nasedka_!”

The younger Winchester was staring between Clint and his own brother in horror, before groaning, “Oh God, there's two of them!”

Will choked slightly on his unexpected laughter, before asking, “What!?”

“Dean's pretty much obsessed with food . . . and he's always yanking my chain.”

The Colonel cocked an eyebrow at that, eyes turning to take in the so far silent Winchester brother, before shrugging. “That's what brothers are for . . . to drive us nuts. You'll get older and you'll get used to it.”

Marina's tone was teasing as she chimed in, “Maybe. I know Will has a file folder of all the different ways he would kill his brothers if I would let him get away with it. I think the only one who doesn't have a folder is Doyle . . . and that's only cause Doyle is older than Will.”

“No, that's cause Doyle doesn't go out of his way to drive me crazy. It seems to be an exclusively younger brother thing.”

It was about then that Jason came from the tent, grumbling. “You all suck.”

“ _Sladkiy_ , I'm sorry. Did we wake you?” his sister asked, standing quickly to guide the still blurry eyed middle Grimm to a log. Once he was settled comfortably on the dirt next to Marina's own seat, she bolted towards the kitchen to get him some coffee. 

Once his sister was sitting down again, he curled up against her leg with his head resting on her thigh. Marina's fingers absently smoothed gently through his hair, while she spoke up, “So since everyone is getting up anyway, should we roust the rest of the boys out of bed? Aaron is probably just waiting for dawn; the poor kid doesn't sleep much any more. I'll bet that Brian's the only one still sleeping.”

“How about we let Jason get back up to proper Brian-capable speed, before we drag Brian out of bed? Give him the opportunity to be able to wake up a little more.”

Scritching fondly at the back of Jason's neck, Marina chuckled as the tech specialist practically purred and burrowed that little bit more into her. “Good idea. I don't think Jay's running on all eight cylinders yet.”

“Eight cylinders? Isn't it usually four?” Dean asked, showing a keen interest in the car analogy. 

“Yes, but that's only cause the rest of the world is typically a four cylinder sedan or something boring. Grimms tend to be high performance vehicles,” was Clint's cheerful explanation.

“I thought Jay was a Ravenclaw,” was Will's dry retort, quicksilver eyes rolling in amusement at his baby brother's explanation. 

Jason's tone was disgruntled as he snarked, “Watch it, Slytherin. Ravenclaws are awesome.”

The Russian's voice was amused as she chimed in, “Some of us happen to think that Hufflepuffs are the best house,” which earned Clint's exuberant, “Here here!”

Braddock was amused as he agreed, “I think the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws in this family are currently outnumbered by Hufflepuffs, so that's not really a fair assessment.”

“Ravenclaws are always outnumbered in this family. Marta and I are the only ones," the family tech specialist reminded his nephew dryly. 

Aaron's voice was calm as he spoke from behind the rest of the group, joining them around the fire as he reminded them, “And Hufflepuffs outnumber everybody, so that's not really accurate either.”

Sam chimed in cheerfully, “How many Gryffindors are there?”

Hansel and his sister both spoke up simultaneously, “Me,” though Hansel continued on with his addendum, “. . . and my wife, Maria.”

Will chuckled at the kid's crestfallen features. “The Army made sure that there were no Gryffindors here. We have many of the same qualities, but our defining characteristics tend to fall into other houses. Marina, Clint, Aaron, Sammy and Casey are Hufflepuffs; Brian, Natasha, Steve and I are Slytherins; Marta and Jason are Ravenclaws; Dad, Aunt Gretel Bucky and Maria are Gryffindors. Of course, that's not counting the rest of the Misfits, who **have** been sorted, but I can't remember into which houses.”

“Daryl was Gryffindor but one of the Neville ones.” Marina supplied, causing Jason to snort as he joked, “Takes a level in badass when the situation needs it. And, now that we're counting Misfits, I'm pretty sure Vincent is a Ravenclaw.”

The Colonel sat back as he watched his family bicker over Hogwarts House assignments and the characteristics that came from them. Although, he was much more interested in the interplay of emotion that passed over John Winchester's face as it continued. “Is there a problem, Winchester?”

“Hell yes there's a problem. What the fuck are you doing!? This is a hunt, not a baby shower!”

Will's eyebrow cocked upwards as he snarked, “Really? I had no idea; it's not like I haven't been to at least two in the last nine months.”

Winchester's eyes narrowed sharply as he hissed, “You're a snot-nosed little shit, you know that?”

“Well, never heard it put in those terms before, but I'm aware that I'm not exactly to everyone's taste.”

Glaring, the older man rounded on the German witch hunter. “You're a damned hunter. Get control of your team. Fucking around . . . goofing off . . . there's no place for that on a hunt. You take charge. You give the orders. You expect to be obeyed. Not shown up by your smart-mouthed, punk ass brat.”

The younger Grimm brothers all went dead silent, eyes flashing back and forth between the man and their older brother. Will was wound about as tight as a spring, and it wasn't hard to see that Marina was only seconds away from shoving Jason's head out of her lap and doing some massive damage. Meanwhile, Hansel was standing motionless, arms folded over his chest as he met the other man's vitriol with stoic silence. There was a long moment, before he spoke, “Hyu are a terrible father.”

Whatever the other man had been expecting, it had not been that. He stumbled backwards a little in surprise at the statement, before his features twisted up in fury and he stalked forward. Hansel didn't even flinch as the man got close enough to throw a punch, only putting up a hand to grab the fist and twist. The end result was John Winchester up on his toes, with his back to the German, as he tried to prevent the other man from dislocating his shoulder. “Asshole! You let me go this fucking instant!”

Hansel's only response was an even, “Shut up.”

Gretel, however, was not so restrained. As John's feet started to kick backwards in an attempt to dislodge Hansel's grip, the German woman moved forward and drove her foot solidly into Winchester's crotch. Even as he subconsciously moved to check his own package, Will snorted in laughter at the sight of the other man's eyes snapping wide in agonized shock, before he crumpled to the ground in pain. All the while Gretel was haranguing him in impassioned German. Marina was not as restrained as her lover; it wasn't long before she was laughing so hard she tumbled backwards off of her log. 

Sam Winchester's eyes were wide as he breathed in awe to his brother, “It's a good thing Dad had us already. I don't think he's ever gonna get it up again, after a hit like that.”

If the frown on his face was any indication, Dean was clearly conflicted. On the one hand, that woman had just clobbered his father in the nuts; like fuck, that had to have hurt. And on the other hand, the woman had just **clobbered** his father in the nuts; that was pretty kickass. “Dad? You okay?”

The only response was a low groan, though what it could have meant was lost in translation as Winchester rolled to his side and curled tightly into fetal position. Looking up at the two teenagers, Will sighed. “Get your gear; your father is sending you spelunking with Dad and me. We'll handle Winchester while you're getting your stuff together.”

Still looking a little unsure, Dean nodded in agreement; he'd been conditioned his whole life to obey orders. And he knew that no matter how gentle the tone, the older man was giving him an order. “Yes sir,” was the only response, as he stood and hauled his baby brother up from his seat. “Come on, Sammy. We gotta get ready to go.”

Marina smiled at the longing look the younger teen gave towards the still warm breakfast materials. “I promise, Sam . . . there is more than enough food for you to have seconds when you get back. Go on.”

“Yes ma'am . . .” he said, before grimacing at the upward cock of her eyebrow, stammering out, “I mean, Marina.”

Sighing, she insisted, “We'll work on it. Scoot.”

Nodding in agreement, he scampered off towards their tent with his brother on his heels. As soon as they disappeared, Will moved to crouch beside the still moaning form of their father. One hand slipped into his thigh pocket, pulling both a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from its confines. “All right then. Mr. Winchester, might I suggest that we attempt to start over? Unless you'd like my aunt to kick you in the balls again?”

There was a definite whimper in response to that as he tucked himself in tighter, eyes tightly closed and therefore missing the sly smirk on Will's face as he lit a cigarette and took a lungful of the smoke. “All right then. Maybe this time we can at least attempt to get along . . . at least until the job is done.”

John's voice was pained and weak, but still vicious as he hissed, “You're just a kid. What the hell do you know about hunting? About fighting for your life? About sending in people to die?”

“Admittedly, this is my first paranormal hunting gig. But I can assure you, from what Dad's told me, it isn't much different than hunting terrorists in the Sandbox, or chasing down rogue Red Room assassins for S.H.I.E.L.D., or being led to believe that your little brother was dead because of an IED that blew up your convoy and tried to wipe out your entire family in one foul blow.” Baring his teeth angrily, he hissed, “But yeah . . . what the hell do I know about anything?”

It was about then that Marina spoke up, “Colonel . . . might I suggest that we get a move on? Daylight's wasting . . . and we've only got four more days till the moon gets bloody.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Will nodded solemnly. “Agreed. Everyone mount up! You've got your orders! Do not engage.” Turning to look at the two veteran hunters in the family, he asked, “We ready?”

“Go get your gear, _Adler_ . . . I'll meet you in the Jeep.”

Grunting out a brusque agreement, and more than willing to get the hell away from the asshole on the ground in front of him, the oldest Grimm moved towards Marina and took her arm in one hand, pulling her tenderly along beside him. Waiting until his son and his partner disappeared into their tent, Hansel crouched in front of Winchester with a frown. “I did warn hyu to shut up. Might I suggest that it would serve hyu well to listen to the opinions of someone not hyurself once in awhile?” Glancing up at his sister, he smirked, “Do not worry about coming with us . . . I know my sister . . . her bite has always been worse than her bark.”

Gretel's face twisted as she planted one more solid kick into Winchester's kidneys as she spat viciously, “ _Arschloch_.”

Struggling to look disapproving, the older Kuhn sibling scolded, “Gretel.”

“What!? It is not as though he does not deserve it!” she protested, her tone growling as she hissed in the other man's direction. “Will is a good soldier . . . a good leader. Who the hell does this _Ficker_ think he is?”

Hansel chuckled as he slid one arm around his sister's shoulders insistently, “He is a man who does not care for the opinions of others. He is the only one who can be right, because he is the only one with all of the answers. It is not up to us to change that, only work around it.”

Mouth twisting bitterly, Gretel sighed, “Those poor boys . . . to be stuck with a _Vater_ like him.” Looking up at her brother, she whispered, “What are we going to do? They cannot go with him.”

Smirking, Hansel agreed, “I would not worry. If I know _mein Adler und meine Tochter_ , they are already knee deep in a plan to take them away with us.”

“Will he let them?”

“I do not think he will have a choice in the matter,” was the last the German said on the matter, before handing his sister up into the backseat of the Jeep and climbing in after her. 

Before long, the camp was empty save for one man, still curled up in fetal position on the ground, his groans the only soundtrack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible*
> 
> Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to ALEK!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!!!!!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> (G) mein Adler - my Eagle (Hansel's nickname for his oldest son, Will)  
> (G) mein Sohn - my son  
> (G) Gut - Good  
> (G) Fräulein - miss  
> (G) Vas - what  
> (G) Herr - Mr.  
> (R) (Ya) Lyublyu tebya - (I) Love you  
> (R) Misha/Mishka - a diminuitive of Michael/Mikhail (Will's middle name is Michael)  
> (R) Marishka - a diminuitive of Marina  
> (R) Bozhe moi - My God  
> (R) Chert voz'mi - Fuck me  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for Marina, his longtime XO, partner and girlfriend)  
> (R) Spasibo - Thank you  
> (R) lyubiteli - the lovers (Will's brothers' teasing term for Will and Marina, the longest tenured couple in the family)  
> (G) mein Falki - my little Hawk (Hansel's nickname for his youngest son, Clint)  
> (R) zhemchuzhina - pearl (one of Will's lesser used nicknames for Marina)  
> (F) Bon appétit, mon amis! - Enjoy your meal, my friends!  
> (F) Poule mère - Motherhen  
> (F) Mais bien sûr! - But of course!  
> (R) Deystvitel'no - Indeed  
> (R) malysh - kiddo  
> (G) Bleib ruhig - stay calm  
> (R) moy dorogoy - my darling (Marina's nickname for Clint Grimm)  
> (R) Nasedka - mother hen  
> (R) Sladkiy - honey (Marina's nickname for Jason Grimm)  
> (G) Arschloch - asshole  
> (G) Ficker - fucker  
> (G) Vater - father  
> (G) mein Adler und meine Tochter - my Eagle and my Daughter (Hansel's nicknames for Will and Marina)


	2. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And only one chapter left of Bloody Moon, the epilogue/aftermath chapter. 
> 
> **Bolded** phrases without quotation marks are text messages. _Italics_ without quotation marks are ASL.
> 
> Translations at the end, as per usual.

[](https://imgur.com/XN3raiv)

Part 2: The Hunt 

Marina sat shotgun in the Jeep, eyes steady as she stared through the empty space ahead of her. Her lover drove, keenly aware of the two teenagers in the backseat, his own eyes shifting between the road and his partner's pensive profile. “ _Kopeyka za vashi mysli_? (Penny for your thoughts?)” 

When she remained silent, he lifted his hand from the gear shift and tucked a strand of hair behind her tenderly. “ _Samaya malen'kaya_? You okay?”

The Russian blinked hard, body shuddering lightly, as though she was coming out of a shallow doze. Chocolate eyes were warm and adoring as she rolled her head to look at her lover. Her answer was a low hum as she gave him a quiet smile. Leaning over quickly, he pressed a brief kiss to her bared shoulder, before straightening again. “You missing the _devushki_?”

“Always,” she agreed, reaching out to lay her hand on the curve of his jaw. “But right now, I'm just thinking.”

“About what?”

The look in her eyes turned simultaneously mischievous and contemplative as they redirected to look in the rearview mirror, taking in the two kids in the back. “Just making plans . . . important, life changing plans.”

The Colonel followed her line of sight, smirking lightly in agreement. “Yeah? Anything definitive?”

Winking, she teased cheerfully, “I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

Cocking an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic deflection, he chuckled, “Well . . . all right then.” Twisting his hand under hers, he squeezed her wrist briefly, before turning his attention onto the teenagers behind him. “So, how old are you, Dean?”

The oldest Winchester flinched slightly at being addressed, but answered easily enough. “I'm 20, sir. Sammy'll be 16 in May.”

“It's Sam,” was the immediate retort from the younger brother, his tone petulant. “Sammy is a pudgy 12 year old.”

“I call my own son 'Sammy-honey'. He's 30, married and expecting a child in the next few months. There's nothing wrong with an affectionate nickname, _Samonik_ ,” Marina soothed, testing out the new nickname cautiously.

The boy's eyes furrowed at the name, before the 15 year old presented the expected query, “ _Samo . . . Salmon . . . Samnik_? What does that even mean?”

“It's a diminutive . . . a nickname. Kind of like when I call Will 'Misha' . . . his middle name is Michael and Misha is a diminutive. Do you mind if I call you _Samonik_?”

Brows knitted slightly, the younger teen considered the nickname for a moment before shaking his head. “Well . . . at least it's not Sammy.”

Will and Marina's smirks were identical as they glanced at each other. Neither of them were going to tell him that by calling him ' _Samonik_ ', Marina was actually calling him 'Sammy-baby'. What he didn't know wasn't hurting anyone. Chuckling, Will teased his lover as he announced, “You should be flattered, Sam . . . Marina only gives nicknames to people she likes.”

“You would know, Mishka . . .” she taunted in reply. “I'm still trying to come up with a nickname for you, Dean . . . be patient . . . I'll find one.”

“I don't need one, ma'am, but thank you.”

“It's Marina. And don't be silly; everyone needs a nickname.”

“What about _kotenok_?” Will joked, causing the woman's eyes to brighten as she suddenly cheered, “That's it! _Shchenok_!”

Cocking an eyebrow, the eldest Grimm checked the mirror then shrugged. “Well . . . I guess he's got the eyes for it.”

“The eyes for it?” Dean asked suspiciously, those very eyes narrowed as he took in the two adults sitting in the front of the Jeep. 

Giggling cheerfully, the Russian said nothing, despite the continued pestering from the young man. 

It wasn't long before the Jeep pulled up to one of the above ground entrances to the expansive caverns below them. Pulling herself to standing, Marina leaned her elbows on the top of the windshield and considered the surrounding area shrewdly. Will turned off the ignition, listing to the rumble of Aaron's GMC pulled up alongside the Jeep. Folding his hands over the wheel, the Colonel took in the stern set of her features. “What do you hear, Marishka?”

For a long time, the former assassin was silent. When she did speak, her tone was grave and it sent a shudder running down his spine. “. . . trouble.”

Hansel appeared at her door then, reaching up to lift his adoptive daughter from the confines of the Jeep. “Well then, it sounds as though we are in the right place, _ja_?”

“Sounds like,” Will agreed with a frown as he swung himself from his seat. “All right . . . I want parties of two or more. You stay within eyesight of each other. No more than 200 paces away from the entrance, then come back. Recon only . . . do not engage, am I understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Sammy, you're with Marina. Dean, you and Sam are with Dad and me. The rest of you, you know your usual partnerships. Let's get to work.”

Braddock nodded, checked his sidearm and moved towards Marina. He stopped when his adoptive father's hand closed around his bicep, eyebrows furrowing as he asked, “What's up, Dad?”

“Keep an eye on her, for me, okay?”

“Yes sir,” the younger man agreed, grinning as Will reached out to ruffle his hair fondly. “I'll take care of her, Dad . . . you look after the _deti_.”

Will frowned as he watched the two teenagers get their gear together; they were efficient and careful, and needed no prompting about what they would probably need. “I have a feeling they don't need much looking after.”

“They're kids, Dad . . . even if they don't think so, they will **always** need someone to look after them.”

Grinning in silent agreement, the Colonel mussed his hair one more time before letting him race after the Russian woman as she stalked towards the entrance to the cavern. Coming towards the teenagers, he clapped Dean comfortably on the shoulder and asked, “You two about ready?”

“We can go by ourselves . . . we don't need babysitters.”

“Humor me. These witches still need a kid from May; fifteen or not, Sam is still technically a kid. Okay?”

“Wait . . . Sam could be in trouble?” Dean demanded, green eyes flashing furiously at the idea. 

“That is why _Adler_ wanted hyu to stay at camp. _Meine Tochter_ had my sons put an iron wheel in the ground around camp while they were setting up last night. Hyu would huf been safe there. But hyur father insisted hyu come along. So stay close and we will all be happier in the long run, _ja_?” Hansel huffed, eyes narrowed angrily as he once again contemplated John Winchester's failure as a father. Turning on his heel, he muttered angrily, “ _Vas_ kind of father sends his sons into a situation that is guaranteed to be dangerous to them.”

“Well like you said, Dad . . . he is a terrible father,” was Will's quiet response, reaching back to gesture the boys ahead of them. “Come on . . . both of you stay where I can see you. I'll be much happier.”

Dean said nothing, mouth turned sharply downwards as he nodded sharply. “Yes sir.”

Will's response was almost habit as he replied, “Don't call me 'sir'. I work for a living.” Reaching up to trigger the comm in his ear, he barked, “Sit rep!”

“Heading down the far west tunnel. So far, all clear!” came Aaron's calm response, to which Braddock replied, “Marina and I are heading down the far east tunnel, but nothing yet.”

“Remember . . . 200 paces in and then back out. These caverns are expansive and the last thing we want is for anyone else to get lost. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Keep me apprised of anything interesting that comes up. _Orel_ out,” he insisted, twisting to look toward where his father and aunt were arguing quietly with one another. “All right, what's going on?”

Will sighed at their immediate responses of, “Nothing!” as neither of them was putting much effort into being convincing. Reaching up to smooth a hand back through his hair, he asked, “Are we going to have a problem?”

“No, _Adler_ . . . I was simply suggesting that Gretel might be safer back at camp. She was not of the same opinion, and was demonstrating how many different ways she can call me an idiot.”

Will nodded in amused understanding, before turning his attention towards the two teenagers. “Aunt Gret . . . you think you can keep an eye on the boys for a second. I need to talk to Dad about something.”

“Of course,” she agreed with a grin, reaching to pull her heavily modified crossbow from the bed of Aaron's truck. “ _Verschieben, Kinder_. We huf work to do!”

Hansel frowned at his son, as the Colonel visibly waited until the two teenagers were out of earshot, before he turned to look up at his father once again. Those quicksilver eyes were piercing as they watched the older man, though he said nothing. Finally, the witch hunter lost patience and demanded, “ _Vas_?!”

Smirking at the display, Will chuckled for a moment before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hey Dad . . . what do you think about S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioning a paranormal department?”

“I would say that it is about damned time.”

There was another short pause, before the Colonel continued carefully, “And what would you say if I told you that I wanted to give John Winchester a job in that department?”

Hansel's scowl was immediate, even as he sighed. “Suddenly I understand why there are times that Maria cannot stand the way hyur brain works.”

Will laughed outright at that, well aware that Maria spent a good majority of her time bashing her head into her desk when it came to some of his more hare-brained plans. Granted, they usually worked and the payoff was always worth it in the end, but still. Except for Marina being used to it, even his beloved partner would probably be willing to kill him sometimes. “What's the matter, Dad? Afraid you can't handle a former Marine with a chip on his shoulder and a vigilante complex?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hansel sighed, “Why would I want to offer Winchester a job with S.H.I.E.L.D.? He has more than proven that he does not care for the way we run things in this family.”

“Yeah, but I have no intention of giving him a cubicle and chaining him to a desk. I want him doing exactly what he's doing now and I want to have a hefty bit of leverage over his head to force his hand when it comes time to separate him from his sons.”

“Hyu think hyu can convince him to do so?”

“Why not? Even considering what little interaction we've seen, he is clearly obsessed with hunting down something. By giving him the resources and the tools, S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing him a favor.” His smirk grew into a grin as he continued with a chuckle, “And if Marina and I get his boys in the bargain, I don't think Marina will be too upset about it.”

“ _Mein Sohn_ , has anyone ever told hyu that hyu have a truly devious mind?”

Winking slyly, Will chirped cheerfully, “I've been told, once or twice. Come on . . . last thing we want is for the boys to give Aunt Gret the slip.”

“Hyur Aunt is one of the finest witch hunters I have ever known. They are children. What could they possibly do?”

Groaning miserably, Will sighed, “You had to ask, Dad. You know as well as I do, the second someone asks something like that, all hell is going to break loose.” Kicking a rock sharply, he swore viciously under his breath. 

Unable to resist chuckling at the sight of his typically stoic son throwing an uncharacteristic temper tantrum, Hansel reached out and clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. “Come now, _Adler_ . . . mayhap they will surprise hyu, hm?”

“Not bloody likely,” was his son's resigned response, before the two men grabbed their own gear and moved as a single unit towards the entrance of the cave. “Let's just get this over with; I want to be back inside the iron circle before too long. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” was the fervent reply, only moments before the two men disappeared into the dark. 

*******************

Three hours later, Will and Marina led the two Winchester boys back into at camp. Jason looked up from where he was stationed at his laptops, chuckling at the disgruntled look on Will's face . . . and the green sludge that clung to his skin like a bad sunburn. “What the hell happened to you!?” he laughed, reaching out to pull some all-purpose wipes from the container to his left. 

“Ask Dad . . . he jinxed me,” Will grumbled, snatching the wipes in one hand as he stormed towards his tent. 

Marina could barely hold in her giggles as she moved to wrap her arms around her _sladkiy_ 's shoulders in a warm embrace. “Better question, is what **didn't** happen.”

“Let me guess; he had a blast out on recon?”

“Oh yeah . . . and he's looking to kill some folk so keep the teasing to a minimum unless you'd like to be scrubbing toilets with toothbrushes or something brutal once we get home.”

“Yes ma'am,” the middle Grimm chirped with a bright grin. “Seriously though . . . how did it go?”

“Well, we found evidence that the caverns are being inhabited, but no kids and no witches.”

“Damn . . . so what does that mean? The caverns are a bust?”

“Not necessarily. _Samonik_ is still technically a child, and May is one of the months the witches still need. We didn't want to go too deeply into the caverns with him in tow. Mishka, Sammy-honey, _Vati_ , _Tante_ and I will go back tomorrow, just the five of us. We'll see what there is to see deeper in at that point.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now, we make plans under the assumption that the caverns are our target.” Looking up, Marina frowned as she realized that she couldn't see the eldest member of the Winchester clan. “Where is John?”

Jason shrugged lightly, “I don't know. I went into my tent about four hours ago, to grab some stuff for my computer setup. I came out and he was gone. I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since then.”

“Great. That's just another delay . . . we can't afford to be wasting time right now. The Blood Moon is in three days!” Marina hissed, throwing up her hands in frustration. 

“Frankly, I say we forget the asshole. If he's so eager to get himself killed, let him. **We** have work to do,” Will grunted, exiting his tent with t-shirt in hand and bare torso on display . . . scars and all. 

Will's scars were a matter of public record in the family. Even Marina's Sammy-honey had gotten an up close look at them on a prior assignment. His brothers, Marina and the rest of the Misfits didn't even really notice anymore, as they were simply another part of what made the Colonel “Will Grimm”. As a result, the Colonel had long ago gotten over being self-conscious about them, at least when among family. As his partner was fond of reminding him, they were a badge of honor. Few soldiers had gone through what he'd endured throughout his life and come out of the other side even marginally sane. Granted, his love of whiskey was borderline alcoholic and no one would ever claim his nightmares were tame or his sleep habits were healthy. But for the most part, Will Grimm was okay. 

Unfortunately, Sam and Dean Winchester were not family – yet! – and they were currently getting a crash course in the patchwork of scars that made up William Michael Grimm's torso. The younger Winchester's eyes snapped wide, brain automatically trying to catalog the scars and match them with some kind of implement. “Holy shit,” he breathed, rounding on his brother with a hiss, “And that is why I don't want to be a hunter!”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the whispered announcement. “That is not from a hunt!” he hissed back, smacking his little brother up the back of the head as a silent reminder to practice a little tact. 

Sam rubbed the back of his head, grumbling, “Then you tell me what made all that. I have the gun shot wounds figured out, but the rest . . .”

Even the older hunter had no explanation. There was evidence of multiple beatings by some kind of implement, as well as a myriad of slashes, stab wounds, healed over gashes and even the precise slices of surgical scars. But even still, there were so **many** of them. Even if the wounds had all been inflicted by one person, it would have been over the span of years . . . “What the hell happened to him?” Dean breathed, half-awed and half-terrified. 

The awed terror in the young man's voice drew Marina's attention from where she was fixing lunch in their makeshift kitchen. Seeing the two boys staring at her lover, she turned to him and only just realized that he was not wearing a shirt. Smirking, she took a moment to take in the view (her Misha with his shirt off was one of her favorite sights in the world) before she blinked and suddenly saw what the boys were seeing. Wiping her hands on a dishrag, she called out softly, “Mishka?”

His attention was solely on Jason's computer screen, the two discussing the cavern's geothermal mapping, meaning his reply was absent as he asked, “ _Da, Marishka_?”

“ _Vy dayete mal'chikov shou_ , (You're giving the boys a show,)” was her quiet response, giving the eldest Grimm a jolt as he looked over at her. “ _Chto_? (What?)” 

“ _Vashi shramy, moy lyubov'_. (Your scars, my love.)”

Looking down at the reminder, he swore viciously, “ _Vot der'mo_! (Oh shit!)” Suddenly remembering that he had his back to the rest of the camp, his swearing grew ever more vehement. It was a well known fact that while his chest was not pretty, his back was ten times worse. “ _Yebat'_! (Fuck!)” 

Snatching his shirt from where he'd laid it over the back of a chair, he yanked it over his head and into place briskly. Sensing his low grade embarrassment, the Russian reached out to smooth her hands over his chest, her touch lingering briefly over the trio of bullet scars that clustered around his left pectoral. (Peru had left more than just these scars, but these three were still the most visible.) “Easy, Misha . . .” she soothed, hands trailing up into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Fidgeting with the hem of the black tee for a second, Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Zero fucks to give,” he muttered, making a visible effort to remove his hands from the fabric and calm down. Glancing toward the two Winchesters, he took in the questions in green eyes and the quiet calculation in hazel ones. Blowing out a breath, he sighed, “I can't tell you much. But I'll give each of you one answer; choose your question wisely.”

Dean nearly leaped at the chance and spoke first. “What's the worst situation you've survived? And do your brothers have as many scars as you?”

Will smirked at the 20 year old, recognizing that he was trying to sneak out the answer to two questions. However, both of them were easily answered, as the Colonel replied simply, “Thaddeus Ross and no.”

The older Winchester balked at the simplistic answers, protesting sharply, “You said you'd answer a question.”

“I did answer a question. Two, as a matter of fact, when the original agreement was for one.” Ignoring the continued protests from the older brother, the Colonel turned to look at the younger one. “All right, two questions. It's only fair.”

Sam Winchester's eyes were calculating as he considered the older man. “Who is Thaddeus Ross? And what did he do to you?”

At the questions, Will winced sharply. He probably should have seen that coming, if only because the younger Winchester had struck him as a sharp kid with overly curious tendencies. Will's obvious reluctance to elaborate on his brother's questions would mean that Sam would be even more interested in the answers. Next to him, he felt Marina's whole body tighten in concern as she twisted to look up at her lover. “You don't have to answer him, Mishka.”

“No . . . fair is fair.” Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand back through his hair before gesturing towards the fire pit. “Take a seat. This could take awhile.”

Jason shifted in his chair, eyes flashing between his two eldest siblings, noting the sharp concern on Marina's face and the resigned dread on Will's. “Do Sammy and I need to find something else to do?”

“You already know about this, and Sammy knows enough. You don't have to leave if you don't want to,” Will insisted, watching as Marina moved to take a seat on a log next to the fire. 

Settling down in front of her once she was seated, he leaned back and pressed his back into her legs in order to offer himself a grounding force. The feel of Marina's fingers in the short strands of his hair was familiar and he took a moment to luxuriate in the feeling. Taking another deep breath, he turned to face the Winchesters as they took seats on the opposite side of the fire. In his peripheral vision, the Colonel could see Braddock taking a seat out of the way; as a Misfit, he knew a little bit about Project Cahill, but there was a lot that none of the Brothers Grimm felt comfortable talking about. As a result, Marina's Sammy was just as curious about the details of the scars that decorated his “Pops” as the Winchesters. 

Taking a deep breath, Will considered the questions and the best place to start, before deciding to start at the very beginning. “I should probably preface this with the fact that my name is not William Michael Grimm.”

Sam Winchester frowned at the information, though whatever he'd been about to ask was interrupted as the Colonel insisted. “I'll answer your questions, but in order to do that, I have to start from when it all started. Please, no interruptions. I don't think I can get all of this out if I have to answer any questions in the middle. It's been a long time since I thought about this at all.”

Marina's hand was a warm, steady pressure on the back of his neck as she squeezed slightly, offering him what comfort she could during what would essentially be the unearthing of his battered soul. Will reached back and laid his hand over hers, trapping it against the nape of his neck as he laced their fingers together. “My name is actually not a name at all. It's a number; the name I was given the day I was born was 'Project One'. I was the first success of Project Cahill and I have not had a moment's peace since then.

“The Project Cahill is a classified project and if anyone knew that I was a Cahill . . . suffice it to say that Marina would be executed as a traitor, my brothers and I would be locked up in labs and dissected, and my daughters would become lab rats. I need your word that anything I tell you about Cahill stays between us.”

Both boys nodded vigorously, and even Sammy was nodding from his own seat. “Thaddeus Ross wasn't the program authority until I was 10 years old, but he was firmly in control over every moment of my life from the time I was 3. Until then, I was in the care of the same wonderful woman who raised my younger brothers.” Smirking up at Marina, he confessed fervently, “She's amazing and it's no surprise to me that I fell head over heels for her at 17 and have been desperately in love with her ever since.”

Will could see that _Samonik_ had a whole slew of questions about that revelation, but he watched the teenager bite down on his lip and rein himself in. Gifting him with a small smile, the Colonel continued recounting the story of his fucked up childhood. “As I said, once I turned three, my training began. My brothers and I were bred to be the perfect soldiers, and we all had our own roles to play. Mine was to be the commanding officer of the unit that we were built to be. I have a very high IQ, and from the time I was 4, I was native fluent in five languages. By the time I was 7, I had advanced to ten. As of now, I am native fluent in 16 different languages and have passable fluency in another dozen more. The first language I ever learned to speak was Russian, followed closely by English. When my youngest brother, Clint was born, he was born deaf; as a result, I can add three different sign languages to my repertoire.

“In addition to the languages I was learning, I was also learning military intelligence, spycraft, political science, statistics & analysis, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, calculus, European history, American history, government, economics, composition, reading, writing; and those were just the **important** ones. But the lessons weren't so bad. They were grueling and hard and it was no life for a child. But I thrived on it. I loved to learn and I didn't like to be bored.” Shrugging, he laughed bitterly, “The lessons on being a good officer . . . those were a little more . . . damaging than the others.

“I was seven years old, the first time Ross had me water-boarded.” Seeing the horror on Sammy's face, but the blank one on the faces of the two Winchesters, he sighed, “It's an interrogation technique. They strap you down to a board, and recline you back so your feet are over your head. They put a towel over your face and then they pour water over it. Every second feels like you're drowning, and there's nothing you can do about it. And that wasn't even the worst thing that Ross ever had done to me.”

“That's enough,” Marina insisted, already knowing that her lover was no longer seeing the boys but the inside of the Hoover Dam, the dark cell where these so-called “practice interrogations” had taken place. “Misha, you don't need to say any more.”

The Colonel didn't seem to hear her, staring at a point in the fire pit and continuing in a blank tone, “I was five, the first time he had one of his soldiers take a cat of nine tails to my back. Before I was 12 years old and Marina kidnapped my brothers and me, I had been beaten, whipped, subjected to electroshock, interrogated, tortured, water-boarded countless times . . . I don't even remember half of it . . . I try not to remember most of it. At least during the day. The nightmares don't let me forget anything.”

About then, Marina had had enough. Swinging herself around, she straddled his lap and took his face in her palms, drawing his face up to her and lowering her lips to his. She kissed him tenderly, whispering against the skin, “Come back to me, Misha . . . you're safe, I've got you . . . come home.”

His whole body was tense with the memories, before the familiar pressure of Marina's mouth against his own drew him back to the present time. Bringing both hands up to her head, he threaded his hands into the strands at her temples and lost himself in her lips for a long moment, trying to get some semblance of sanity back. For once Jason didn't tease the two, well aware that Will was trying to claw himself back to sane after ripping open his soul to answer the questions he'd allowed the younger Winchester to ask. 

Sammy was the first to move, pushing himself to his feet and prodding the two Winchesters up as well. “We're almost out of kindling. Let's go.”

Sensing what the blond was doing, Jason nodded in agreement, “I need to head to town; I want to try to pick up a signal enhancer from Radio Shack. I'm worried we're going to lose comms in the caverns tomorrow.”

The eldest Grimm's face was buried in his partner's neck, his hands practically claws as he clung to her. Marina looked up at her boys with a sad smile, nodding in agreement with each of their plans. “Sounds good. Keep your comms on; we'll call if anything changes. Be careful.” Slipping one hand up into the Colonel's hair, she raised the other and signed silently, _Thank you_.

Both nodded and moved away. Soon . . . Will and Marina were the only ones left in camp. 

***********************************

Hansel had stayed at the caverns with his sister and two youngest sons, each of the four picking a different vantage point in the hopes that they would be able to see some activity. With the Blood Moon only three days away and the coven still missing half of their sacrifices – including their Grand White Witch – it was obvious that there was going to be a rush to get the last ingredients for the ritual. Hopefully, with each of them stationed at a different entrance, at least one of them would be able to catch a glimpse of one of the witches either coming or going. 

Hansel had his back to a tree, shotgun across his knees, as he watched his entrance when his phone buzzed in his thigh pocket. Drawing it out, he was surprised to read the text from his middle son, sent in a mass text to everyone involved in the hunt except the Winchesters, Will or Marina. **Tread carefully if going back to camp. Will's kinda raw right now.**

Another text appeared only moments after first, a tiny picture of a bow and arrow depicting that it came from his youngest son. **What the fuck happened!?**

 **Winchester boys saw Will's scars. Told them he'd answer two questions. I'll say this for the youngest one, he's smart . . . and had no idea what can of worms he was opening. I think he's at least as traumatized as Will is right now.**

Aaron's own response was hot on that remark, practically demanding, **What did he ask?**

**Who Ross was. And what he did to Will.**

There was no reply needed following that text. Everyone in the family knew what kind of damage that question would have done to the oldest member of the _Brat'ya Mrachnyy_. Brian's reply was succinct enough that it spoke for everybody. **Fuck**.

It was a moment later that his sister texted him privately. **_Sollten wir William nach Hause schicken? Kann er das?_ (Should we send Will home? Can he do this?)**

Hansel chuckled at the question, shaking his head at the brusque concern that Gretel would deny was evident to her dying day. **_Sie könnten versuchen, aber er würde nicht danken Ihnen für sie._ (You could try, but he would not thank you for it.)**

When she did not reply to that, the Grimm Family patriarch sighed and tucked the phone away once again. If he knew his son, and he did, it was going to be a long – or rather, a short – night for his eldest. Thunking his head back against the tree trunk behind him, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. 

If he'd waited only a moment before opening his eyes, he would have missed it. But as it was, he forced himself back to the job just in time to see a troll plodding towards the entrance, a child trapped in a crude cage strapped to his back. Narrowing his eyes, he zeroed in on the troll cautiously. Trolls were notoriously long-lived, but the likelihood of that troll being Edward . . . 

And then the troll shifted and Hansel was almost lunging forward in shock. Fumbling for his phone, he forwent the caution of texting and called his sister immediately. She answered with a sharp, “What the hell are hyu doing, idiot!? Do hyu want to get caught!?”

“It is Edward!”

“What is Edward? Hans, Edward is dead. It has been two hundred years.”

“No, he is not. I am looking at him, at this very moment, at my entrance. He is alive . . . and he is working for these witches.”

“Fuck that noise! Edward is **my** troll!” Gretel snapped furiously, the sharp rustle of leaves indicating that she was moving quickly through the brush to get to her brother's position. 

It was several minutes before he realized that his sister wasn't actually coming to **him** , she was heading towards his **ENTRANCE**. “Gretel . . . what do hyu think hyu are doing?”

Her tone was a low growl as she hissed, “Getting my troll back. Cover me.”

Sighing heavily, he checked his handgun as he replied, “Because I would do anything else. Be careful, Gret.”

“I feel I should remind hyu who hyu are speaking to.”

“I remember who I am speaking to . . . that would be why I said it,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes as he moved towards the entrance of the cave to provide his impetuous younger sister much needed back up. Hanging up the phone, he tucked it back into his pocket as he sighed, “Forgive me for my language, but _verdammt_ , she will be the death of me.”

***************************************

Brian Grimm was the best undercover agent that the Grimm Family could boast . . . with the obvious exception of Natasha Romanoff. Damn, just thinking of his woman did things to his blood pressure. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he returned his attention to where John Winchester was moving through the trees ahead of him, obviously looking for something. 

Will had known that leaving John alone in camp was only going to cause trouble, so he'd left the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent behind to keep an eye on the hunter. He'd hidden out of sight, and then settled in to wait. It hadn't taken long for Winchester to shake off Gretel's brutal shot to the family jewels, and it seemed like no time at all before John was staggering towards the edge of camp, muttering viciously under his breath. Whatever damage he'd taken, he was clearly able to mitigate it and get back onto the job. Granted, what part of the job he thought he was doing, Brian was a little unsure. 

Jason and Will had thoroughly mapped the caverns; there were four entrances and his father, aunt and two of his brothers had each of them covered. But here the man was, poking at a sinkhole as though it held the answers to the universe. Snorting quietly, he moved towards a tree and set his back to it, listening to the sounds of Winchester working hard not far away. 

If there was one fact about Brian Gamble that was universally known, it was that he really hated to be bored. And after listening to Winchester clear the area around the depression in the ground for the last two hours . . . he was fucking bored. Dropping his head back against the tree, Brian groaned softly at the prospect of spending even more time waiting for Winchester to do something productive. 

At which point, there was a rustle on the other side of the clearing. Instantly Brian was alert, one hand moving toward his Glock 9 that he'd tucked into his waistband before leaving camp. Clicking off the safety, he twisted slightly to put the sound in sight, while also noticing that Winchester hadn't seemed to notice. Cursing under his breath, he slipped away from his tree and moved toward the sound. Geez, he hated people. 

Of course, then the older of the two Winchester brothers stepped into the clearing, with an armful of twigs and small sticks. Groaning, Brian settled down to wait once again. As for the twenty year old hunter, he was clearly stunned to see his father. Slamming to a stop as he took in John's actions, Dean frowned as he watched the older man. “What the fuck are you doing, Dad?”

John jerked at the question, whirling to face his son. Then, realizing what he'd said, he frowned fiercely. “Watch your language, Dean.”

The boy's lips compressed and for a second, Brian thought that he was going to acquiesce to the older hunter. Then, Brian's eyes flashed open in pleased surprise as Dean snapped furiously, “I don't fucking think so. I'll damn well swear at you if I want to. What the fuck were you thinking, sending Sammy into that cave!?”

“I don't have to answer to you, Dean.”

“Like hell you don't! Sammy is **MY** responsibility. **You** made sure of that! He's still a kid . . . and apparently, he is exactly what those bitches need to complement their ritual.” 

Brian snorted, tucking the gun away as he took up position once again. The Winchester kid had balls . . . big titanium ones. He was going to fit in well with the Grimms; which was probably a good thing. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent recognized the look on Marina's face; she was eyebrows deep in some new plot to adopt someone. He still remembered the lengths to which Marina had gone to wrench familial control of her Sammy from the General and his wife. With any luck, John wouldn't be nearly as hard to convince to let go. 

Chuckling, he tuned back into the conversation just as John moved to loom threateningly over his son. “You will watch your tone, Dean! I am your father!”

“Then act like it! Sam is a kid! He needs protecting from the shit that's out there . . . he shouldn't need protecting from you!”

Brian's eyes widened in surprise, when the father reached out and grabbed his son around the arm, hauling him up so that they were nose to nose. “You **will** watch your mouth. I would never do anything to put Sam in danger.”

Dean's lips twisted as he snarled, “Except send him into a cave full of witches who would very much like to use him as a sacrifice in a Blood Moon ritual . . . sure . . . whatever you say Dad.”

Seeming to realize that his son was not going to forgive this offense easily, John shoved the kid hard, sending him scrambling back a few steps. “If you're so worried about your brother, what the hell are you doing out here and not back at camp with him?”

“Sam's not at camp . . . he's out trying to find some kindling for the fire with Braddock. Man's ex-military . . . kinda thought he'd be able to protect Sam.”

“You left your brother alone with a complete stranger!? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Please . . . Braddock's not going to let anything happen to him. When I wandered off, they were talking about soccer. Apparently, Braddock's a fan of Manchester United. As far as he's concerned, Sammy's in fucking heaven.”

“I don't think I like this new tendency of yours to swear at me or to mouth off to me either, for that matter.”

“Get used to it; you put Sammy in danger. I'm not sure I'm ever going to trust you with him ever again.”

“Sam is **my** son. You'd do well to remember that, Dean.”

“I remember that just fine . . . it's good to hear that you do too,” Dean snarked, before turning on one heel and storming back the way he'd come. “See you back at camp. Take as much time as you'd like. Pretty sure Colonel Grimm has this under control without your input. Besides, it's not like you're usually around all that much anyway.”

Brian grinned, whistling under his breath. Despite everything, the older man was hella impressed and he was **totally** right. The kid had big, brass balls, wrapped in a bulletproof titanium coating. No wonder Marina and Will both liked him; there was more than a little of the Colonel wrapped up in that 20 year old frame, especially where his little brother was concerned. Now all they needed to do was teach him how to harness it. He'd be a hell of an agent; too bad he'd never been to college or joined the military. He'd own the current training class without even trying. 

Of course, it was about then that all hell broke loose. Brian recoiled reflexively as a haggard and physically repulsive woman on a flying stick came swooping into the clearing. Shrieking with gleeful laughter, she reached out and grabbed Dean by the back of the neck and veered upwards toward the sky. “Oh hell no!” Brian snapped, lunging from his hiding place and bringing his gun to bear. 

Pulling the trigger once and watching the bitch jolt at being wounded, he suddenly staggered as he was pushed hard by the older man. “You bastard! You'll hit Dean!”

Brian reared back in shock, before looking up again and seeing that the witch and Dean were already gone from view. Spinning on one heel, he reached out and shoved Winchester over a fallen log. “You asshole! I fully intend to be that kid's favorite uncle! Admittedly, I'm not my brother, but I'm an exceptional shot! And now, instead of killing a witch and getting Dean back, she's flown him off to who knows where.” Leaning down, he hissed furiously, “You're a shitty father, you know that! Maybe if you'd been more interested in protecting your kids, instead of trying to reestablish your dominance over your eldest, this could have been avoided entirely!”

“I do **not** have to answer to you for how I raise my kids!” John roared, scrambling to his feet in an attempt to loom menacingly over Brian. 

“Maybe not . . . but what do you think you're going to tell your second son about why Dean is gone?”

Of course it was about then that his phone vibrated in its cargo pocket. Swearing viciously under his breath, he dug for it and thumbed it on. Staring in horror at the statement there, he watched as his younger brothers chimed in on the eldest Grimms' situation, before sending a reply of his own. **Fuck.** Rounding on one heel, he moved to leave, stalled only by Winchester grabbing him by his sleeve and yanking him back around. “I'm not finished with you!”

Whipping around, Brian hauled back and punched the older man in the face, a sick kind of satisfaction in his gut as the other man collapsed into the dirt and mud. “I don't give a damn about what you think you're entitled to. I do give a damn about my older brother, who is hurting and upset and who needs his family right now. So please . . . go fucking fuck yourself!”

Whirling on his heel, he bolted back towards camp, arms pumping and feet flying over the unfamiliar terrain. When he arrived at camp, it was to the sight of Marina sitting despondently at the fire pit with a cup of coffee and her lover nowhere to be seen. “Where's Will?” he demanded, skidding to a halt beside her. 

Marina looked up at him with a desolate look in her eyes. “I couldn't settle him, he was just too upset. I gave him one of the weak sedatives in the med-kit . . . he's laying down in the tent.”

“Is he okay?”

“He won't be down long . . . he never is,” she insisted, both hands coming up to press down over her mouth as a sob escaped. 

Immediately, Brian was seated on the log next to her and wrapping his sister in his arms for a long, much-needed embrace. It was like a dam broke, as Marina buried herself into his chest and just lost what little composure she had been struggling to hold on to. Before long, both of the Sams were skidding back into camp, Braddock's ice blue eyes wide as he continued towards the only real mother he'd known since his younger sister, Amy, was killed so many years ago. “Ma?” he asked, coming to kneel in the dirt in front of her. 

She didn't move from Brian's embrace, though one hand did reach out to grip the hand Sammy offered to her. The younger Winchester brother lingered uncomfortably on the edge of the group, watching as the other two men devoted all of their attention to the woman in the middle. A hand came down on his shoulder and _Samonik_ jolted in surprise, looking up to see the middle Grimm standing there with a concerned frown. “It's all right, kiddo . . . she's gonna be just fine.”

The kid bit down hard on his lower lip as he begged, “I'm sorry . . . I didn't know . . . I didn't think . . .”

“Hey . . . it's okay. It's not your fault, I promise. Will's tough . . . he'll be just fine. He just needs to compartmentalize it all back into its neat little boxes and everything'll go back to just the way it's always been. Will said you could ask him two questions; you couldn't have known that your questions were going to hurt him.”

“I should have though! He was so reluctant to tell Dean anything. And I just . . . I was **so** curious. I wanted to know!”

“There is nothing wrong with a little curiosity. Just keep in mind; in this family, the past is a gigantic bruise that no one likes to prod at too much, okay?”

Nodding once in agreement, the two turned back to watch the three once again. It wasn't long before Marina straightened up from where she was leaning against Brian, though her hand didn't loosen from where she was clutching Sammy's own. Bringing her free hand up to her face, she wiped away her tears and shook her hair from her face. “I'm okay.”

Jason spoke up fondly as he insisted gently, “It's totally okay if you're not, Marishka. I mean . . . it's Will. We all know how hard you have to work to stay strong for him when he's faltering.”

“That's just it . . . he's faltering. I don't have the luxury of being able to fall apart right now.”

“As soon as we get home, you're gonna go out with Maria, my Tasha, Vika and Nika and get very **very** drunk. Agreed?” Brian insisted, looking at his sister with an almost stern frown on his handsome face.

“Drinking with my sisters? No hardship there,” she agreed with a watery laugh. “Promise.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead as he insisted, “Good.” 

Looking around, she frowned for a moment, before demanding, “Hey guys? Where's Dean?”

Brian grunted angrily, before remarking, “We might want to wake up Will . . . they took Dean.”

“Who took Dean!?” she demanded, chocolate eyes blazing with frightened fury and concerned rage. 

“The witches. I was keeping tabs on John. Dean found him on accident and the two of them got into a fight.” Rubbing his hand over his goatee, the second eldest Grimm continued, “Neither of them was paying attention and a witch swooped in and snapped Dean up like a bag of potatoes. I got one shot off and hit her, but John grabbed me before I could shoot her down.”

“Why would the witches grab Dean? He's twenty years old; he's not a kid by any stretch.”

“He looks like one,” Jason argued calmly, arms coming up to fold over his chest as he attempted to play Devil's Advocate. “If I didn't know better, I would have said he was 16 or so when they first got to camp yesterday.”

Hansel's voice caused Marina to jump as he appeared at the other side of camp, his two youngest sons flanking him on either side as he agreed. “I would have said the same, _Tochter_.”

Taking a deep breath, the Russian stood from her log with a nod. “All right . . . let me get Misha.”

“When did he take the sedative? Is he gonna be okay?”

“It was a weak one . . . it didn't even really knock him out, just kind of slowed him down. He was on his own two feet the whole time I was trying to get him to the tent, and he's still barely conscious, but not by much. Jay, if you'd put some coffee on, I think he'll be okay after some caffeine.” Frowning, she paused, “Where's Gretel?”

“With Edward.”

“Who's Edward?”

“Her troll.”

“Her what!?”

“It is complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it!”

“Trolls serve witches. Gretel is a Grand White Witch. Edward was her loyal companion and servant before we were cursed; he is being forced to work for these witches. Gretel is simply reclaiming him.”

“And his loyalties are to . . . who?”

Well remembering the troll's pleased roar and fierce embrace at the sight of his sister, Hansel chuckled as he insisted, “Gretel . . . he is thrilled to have her back.”

“As long as he's useful in getting the kids back, I'm good,” Brian insisted, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Marina shrug with a snort and disappear into her tent once again. “But the second he becomes a liability, I'll kill him.”

“Hyu are welcome to try, _Arger_ , but trolls are very hard to kill.”

“So are Grimms. I think we can manage it.”

His older brother's tone was subdued as he and Marina exited the tent, one arm around her shoulders as they moved slowly towards their seats at the fire. “Manage what?”

To everyone who knew him, it was easy to see that the carefree smirk on Brian's face did not reach his eyes as he teased his brother, “This is what happens when you take naps, _pravitel'_. You miss things.”

Giving his brother a small smile, those quicksilver eyes moving sluggishly between gray and dark blue, the Colonel agreed, “I'll make sure to keep that in mind. Manage what?”

Jason rolled his eyes as he snarked, “Nothing. Bri thinks he's enough of a badass to kill a troll.”

Blond eyebrows flew into his hairline as he repeated dully, “Wait, a troll? You mean those actually exist?”

“Apparently he and Aunt Gret are old friends,” the tech specialist agreed, pouring out a cup of coffee and bringing it to his older brother. Placing the mug in his brother's hand, he used his free hand to wrap Will's trembling hands around the ceramic. “You okay, big brother?”

The smirk that crossed his lips was lackluster, but there was a sparkle in his brother's eyes that Jason had been worried was going to be missing for awhile. “I'll be all right,” he insisted, lifting the mug to his lips. “I'm going to assume something bad happened. Anyone want to clue me in?”

“John spent the afternoon poking at a depression in the ground about 20 minutes away from here. He and Dean got into a nasty fight. Dean got snatched by witches. And apparently, Aunt Gretel is friends with a troll whose name is Edward, of all things. Will the world never be free of the monstrosity that is Twilight?”

“Wait, back up. Dean got snatched by the witches?” Will asked, eyebrows furrowing angrily. 

Marina's fingers were gentle in his hair as she insisted, “He's gonna be okay. We're going to get him back.”

“Damn right we will. I have every intention of teaching that kid how to prank Fury without getting caught,” Brian cackled with a broad wink. 

“There are times that I am convinced that you have a death wish . . . and then I remember that you're psych evaluation says you're fucking crazy,” Clint joked, with a laugh as he dodged the rock that Brian chucked at him from across camp. 

Leaning back into Marina's knees, Will looked around at the group gathered in front of him. “Okay. I think it's time we get back on track. Let's get a head count. I want to know who all is here and whether anyone else is going to be joining us for this hunt before we go in.”

Aaron's elbows settled onto his knees as he insisted, “Marta's working on a huge assignment back home, so it's just me.”

“Bucky and Darcy are in New Mexico with Dr. Foster and Phil Coulson, helping to set up the Puente Antigua base. So as far as I know, neither of them are coming at this point,” Clint announced next, digging in a cooler for several bottles of water. 

Hansel caught the bottle his son tossed at him as he chimed in, “Last Gretel told me, Rogers was still in New York City. I believe she said he was sulking. As for my wife, she is in New York with the babies.”

“Casey's also in New York; with the wedding next month, her mother is tripling her efforts to try and talk her out of marrying me,” Jason joked with a self-deprecating smile. “So far, it's not working.”

The entire group was laughing as they joked, “Poor Casey!”

Brian leaned forward on his elbows as she thought, “Natasha's in Russia, setting up the last details for the mission S.H.I.E.L.D. is sending us on as soon as this assignment is over. So she's not going to be showing up at this point.”

Marina shrugged as she looked over at her lover. “I have no control over Owen, so I have no idea whether Lucky is going to be coming or not. Seeing as the Blood Moon is only two and a half days away, I'm going to say probably not. But again, there's no real guarantee that he's not going to show up.”

“What about the rest of the Misfits?” Will asked, cocking an eyebrow at his partner. 

“Doyle and Scarlett are at home with their kiddos; Gus is still at the Lezova-Charlton clinic; Vincent is working with Marta on her assignment; Deeks is with Kensi in Los Angeles; and Rene is supposed to be at college in Toronto right now. Anyone I'm missing?”

“Sounds like everybody,” Aaron agreed quietly, his hands coming up to cradle his chin. “So . . . now that we know our resources, let's figure out how we're going to save these kids and get them back to their parents.”

Almost in one voice, the group announced, “Agreed.”

********************

Edward was a huge fucking troll. 

The first time the Colonel met him, that was literally the only thing that stayed on his mind. Even considering the fact that New York City was known for its . . . abnormalities . . . it was not going to be easy to hide a 7 foot tall and 350 pound **troll** within the city limits. Or at S.H.I.E.L.D. for that matter, if only because Edward was a **TROLL**. 

Shaking his head, Will put his mind to solving that problem later. Right now, there were kids to save and a Winchester to rescue. Marina was absolutely furious and making vicious plans to get him back. Will knew from personal experience that the sooner she was let off her leash to go kill something, the better off everyone else would be. And then there was Gretel, who was practically chomping at the bit to get some payback against the people she claimed had “stolen her troll”, because apparently a witch wasn't allowed to steal another witch's troll. (Apparently witches had a code of honor; who knew?)

Fortunately, Edward was more than willing to show the Grimms where the children were being held at Gretel's insistence, using the maps to layout the area. As for the coven themselves, except for two of them, the rest were rarely around. Most of them were actually fairly prominent women in the community; active with the PTA boards, busy at City Hall. When consulted, Hansel had agreed that it was not a surprise that they were so prominent seeing as most witches tried to hide in plain sight if they could, unless their usage of the darker arts had corrupted their faces into something hideous. Gretel's guess was that this particular coven was new to the scene, as their faces were still pure and they hadn't yet become the gnarled and twisted creatures of their memories. The two who stayed hidden were clearly older and even more clearly the leaders of the coven; of the lot, these two would be the primary targets. The Germans speculated that these two women were more experienced in the arts, and were probably more than acquainted with the taste of young human flesh. 

As for Dean, his capture was unfortunate but also convenient. He wasn't a kid, which meant that no matter what, the ritual wasn't going to work. And since he was January, they would probably try to sacrifice him first. Their main priority was making sure that **didn't** happen, but even the best laid plans ended in casualties some times. If they did kill him, everyone knew that Dean would be relieved that his death prevented the deaths of the other children. Not to mention, the youngest Winchester had assured the Grimms that Dean would definitely not go quietly. Stubborn, frustrating and sneaky were three of Dean's most aggravating – and endearing – qualities. He'd fight like hell to keep himself alive, making it that much easier to get him back alive and in one piece. 

From there, the plan was pretty simple. Because the majority of the coven was rarely in residence at the caverns, they were going to go in to rescue the children first. They'd take care of the two witches who spent their time holed up in the caverns, before settling down to wait out the end of the Blood Moon. In order to reap the benefits of the ritual, the entire coven would have to be in attendance. As they started to trickle in, the Grimms would take them out.

It was really too bad for the community that the diligent members of their public offices would soon be rotting under the ground, as a result of an uncharacteristic bit of seismic activity that collapsed the caverns and left no survivors. But the Grimms would be long gone, before anyone even realized that the women were dead. 

********************

When all was said and done, the two witches didn't stand a chance against the combined fury of Marina Ivanovna Petrovka, William Michael Grimm and Margaret Huberta Kuhn. Will's first shot had taken the head from the first witch, with Marina and Gretel taking vicious pleasure in plugging the other one full of holes before she'd dropped. Unsatisfied with that, Marina had stepped forward and placed her boot in the nape of the corpse's neck, placing three consecutive shots into the upturned temple. “Kindly tell your friends in hell not to touch my things.”

Sam Winchester had stared in shock at the display, though none of the other Grimms seemed to find anything out of the ordinary The Colonel stashed his gun in its holster and turned to look at his brothers. “All right, let's find the kids. Brian, once Dean is free I want the both of you to take _Samonik_ and the kids and get them away from here. The rest of you, take position . . . it's gonna be a bloodbath.” 

Almost as soon as Will was finished, Aaron and Clint were dashing towards the interior of the caverns where Edward had told them the kids were being held. The youngest Winchester waited only a moment before he was dashing off after them, with Brian hot on his heels. The sight of his older brother sitting in a crude cage, his hands lashed to the bars at the top of the cage and blood streaming down the side of his face caused the teenager to scream, “DEAN!” 

The 20 year old jerked slightly, though his eyes were slightly unfocused as he attempted to bring himself around. “Sammy? What the hell are you doing here!? Get the fuck out!”

“I'm not leaving you here,” the younger brother argued, eyes scanning over the area in an attempt to locate some kind of key or other mechanism to get his brother out. 

Rolling his eyes at the fruitless search, Brian pulled his sidearm and in a blink had shot the lock, popping the door like a soda can. Sam dashed into the cage, reaching up to untie his brother and get him out of the cage. Twisting over one shoulder, Brian ordered his younger brothers, “Find the rest of the kids. We gotta get out of here!”

Dean groaned as his arms fell and he nearly collapsed into his brother's arms. “We're just gonna leave? What about the witches?”

“My brothers are gonna handle it. You and I are going to take Sam and the other kids, and get them the hell to safety.”

“I'm not leaving! I'm a hunter! This is my job!”

Watching the kid for a moment, Brian knew exactly what to say. There was a lot of similarity between this kid and his own older brother. “Yeah? And what about your brother, huh? He's not leaving without you, and if you're not leaving, that just puts him in danger. Be smart, kid!” 

Dean's eyes were instantly drawn to where Sam was holding up his weight with his own shoulder in his armpit. “You need to leave, Sammy.”

Sam's face twisted into what Dean lovingly called his “bitchface” as he insisted, “I am **not** leaving you, so shut the hell up.”

Brian grinned as he watched the two, insisting, “Dude, I like this kid. Come on, Grumpy . . . let's get out of here.”

Dean's frown was fierce and vicious as he grunted, “I am **NOT** grumpy.”

“Coulda fooled me kid. Let's go . . . we got children to rescue and witches to kill.”

“I thought we weren't going to be killing the witches.”

“Shut up, kid, before I duct tape your mouth,” Brian grunted, moving off to help his younger brothers corral the rest of the children towards the exit. 

Will stood waiting at the entrance to the caverns when the three younger brothers had gotten the rest of the children there. Sam was still bolstering Dean up, while Aaron carried a whimpering three year old in his arms and Clint was giving another toddler a piggyback ride. Looking over the group with a careful eye, Will asked, “How is everyone?”

“Malnourished and scared, but alive,” Brian reported, reaching out to accept the child from his brother. 

“Good to hear.” Glancing down at his watch, Will considered the time before speaking up. “On the one hand, I want to be able to take the children home. And on the other hand, I don't want to tip **our** hand.”

“How about we take them back to camp? There's plenty of food and they can hang out in the tents until we can take them back home to their families.”

Nodding as he considered that plan, Will reached back into his pocket and offered his AmEx Black to Aaron. “Take Clint with you. Go to the Wal-Mart and buy as many toys as you can fit into the truck. They could use something to cheer them up. I'm sure it's been a terrifying couple of weeks for each of them.”

“Oh man, Carol is going to have a fit,” Clint snorted, well remembering the customer service lady that had been permanently assigned to Will's American Express account. The brothers were always buying something crazy and having to explain away the charges always seemed to put Will in a bad mood. The whacky thing was that it **wasn't** usually the crazy charges that got tagged, but the totally normal and completely innocuous ones instead. A trip to Wal-Mart to buy toys for some traumatized children? Totally one of the charges he'd be explaining for awhile. 

“I'll handle Carol . . . I always do,” the Colonel agreed with a roll of the eyes. 

“All right, we'll head to the store, pick up the toys and take them back to camp. Then head back here?”

“Yeah . . . we've got set up work to do before tomorrow night. The whole coven is coming, and as yet . . . they don't know their whole plan went to hell. I want to be ready before they get here.”

“Sounds like a plan. We'll see you back here in a couple hours,” Clint agreed, snatching the card from his brother's hand and dashing towards Aaron's truck. “Come on, Kenny! Let's get a move on!”

Exchanging a fond roll of their eyes, Aaron and Will shrugged fondly, before the younger brother raced off towards his truck. “I'm coming, _bratishka_ , keep your quiver on.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I try.”

********************

If you asked Dean, the hardest part about the hunt was the part where you waited for it to be over. Brian was surprisingly adept at both keeping track of nine young children and entertaining them. Before the end of that first day, they all practically adored him. Aaron and Clint's arrival with a literal **truck** full of toys was the catalyst for a burst of excitement, as was the news that the toys were theirs forever. As for his father, John had shown back up in camp late that evening, shocked to see his abducted son – he had apparently gone off on his own to find the young man, and had been unaware of the plan to sneak into the caverns to rescue them that morning. Once he discovered that he had been left out of the plan entirely, as a result of his absence, he got so mad that he snapped off about the Colonel using phrases that would have earned Dean a soapy mouth if he'd ever used them before his mom had died. 

Needless to say, Brian Grimm had had some unkind and strongly worded things to say about that. As far as Dean could tell, his father was still reeling. 

When it was all over, it culminated in a troop of Grimms arriving back in camp 32 hours after they'd left, exhausted but effusive with the satisfaction of victory. The children had long fallen asleep in their borrowed tents, and were thankfully spared the gory, bloody sight they made as the hopped out of their vehicles and trekked into the firelight. 

Braddock was supported on both sides by Aaron and Jason, blood leaking from the nasty gash in his forehead as well as saturating the fabric of his shirt under his left arm. Hansel and Gretel was assisting a protesting – and hobbling – Clint, though at least the blood these three were sporting didn't seem to be their own. As for Will, he seemed to be mostly covered in Marina's blood, considering she was barely conscious and slumped lifelessly against his chest as he cradled her in his arms. From the looks of things, they had all taken a hell of a beating, but Will's eyes were proud as he announced firmly, “It's done.”

Releasing a deep sigh of relief, Brian stood from his seat at the fire and moved to start the coffee pot and grab the family's first aid kit from the kitchen area. This left Dean and Sam to get pallets set up around the fire, complete with blankets and pillows scavenged from the tents. Before long, the wounded were settled on the ground, while the mostly able-bodied tended to their injuries and plied both themselves and their patients with hot, sweet coffee. “So who's worse off? Do we need to call Medical and have them waiting for us when we get home?”

“For the most part, _Arger_ , we are all well.”

“Marina's not even conscious, Dad!” was the second eldest's argumentative protest. 

“Marina took a cheap shot to the back of the neck, just above her shoulders,” Will relayed calmly, looking down fondly to where his partner was dozing comfortably in his embrace. “She'll be just fine. Clint sprained his ankle. Sammy probably got the worst of it; one of those bitches caught him in the side with a knife. The rest of us have the usual spread, but we'll all right. I promise, Bri, no need to call Medical. The Grimms will live to fight another day.”

Frowning, Brian moved over to crouch beside his nephew. The blond looked up at his uncle and smirked, lifting the corner of his shirt carefully to lay the gouges bare. “How does it look?”

“Well, it's not quite as pretty as the hunk of muscle that zombie took out of your arm, but it's up there. Come on, Sammy . . . let's get that cleaned out and bandaged up, okay? Last thing we want is for you to catch something, because that knife was definitely contaminated.”

Braddock's blue eyes were twinkling with amusement, even as he grimaced at the mental picture. “Sounds good to me.”

The Colonel frowned as he watched his younger brother help his adoptive son to his feet. “Might want to call Medical to get him set up with a tetanus booster too . . . better to be safe than sorry later.”

Face twisting slightly – Sammy's hatred of needles was near legend – the younger man groaned as he agreed, “Fine . . . but I'm lodging an official protest.”

Chuckling, Will replied, “Protest noted . . . as long as you do it.”

“What about Marishka? Her head's gotta be killing her,” Clint asked quietly, watching his sister murmur as she curled up tighter against his brother's chest. 

“Let her sleep . . . we'll get some pain meds into her when she wakes up. For the moment, the rest is the best thing for her,” the Colonel insisted, fingers whisper soft through her hair as he cradled her to him. “All right . . . the usual shifts . . . dawn's coming fast. And the job isn't over yet; we still have to get the kids home to their families.”

“Copy that,” was the unanimous agreement, before the Grimms began to split up into their usual partnerships to take their places. 

John grunted as he shoved himself to his feet, gesturing his two sons toward their tent brusquely. The eldest Grimm looked up before he could get too far and insisted, “Don't go too far, Winchester . . . Marina and I need to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's nickname for Marina)  
> (R) devushki - girls (Will is referring to their twin daughters)  
> (R) Samonik - Sammy-baby  
> (R) kotenok - kitten  
> (R) Shchenok - puppy  
> (G) Adler - Eagle (Hansel's nickname for Will)  
> (G) Meine Tochter - my Daughter (Hansel's nickname for Marina)  
> (G) Ja - yes  
> (G) Vas - What  
> (R) Orel - Eagle (Will's Spec Ops call sign)  
> (G) Verschieben, Kinder - Move, children.  
> (G) mein Sohn(e) - my son(s)  
> (R) sladkiy - honey (Marina's nickname for Jason)  
> (G) Vati - Dad (Marina's nickname for Hansel)  
> (G) Tante -Aunt (Marina's nickname for Gretel)  
> (R) Da - yes  
> (R) Brat'ya Mrachnyy - Brothers Grimm (Spec Ops code name for the Army tactical group, of which Will, Marina, Jason, Aaron and Clint are apart.)  
> (G) verdammt - damn it  
> (G) Arger - Anger (Hansel's nickname for Brian)  
> (R) pravitel' - big brother  
> (R) bratishka - little brother  
> (R)


	3. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right! Here we are, the end of this ficlet . . . mostly. There will be a small post-credits scene still, but that should be up tomorrow after I get off work. I hope everyone has enjoyed this little outtake. And yes, we will be seeing more of the Winchesters in the future, I promise. This storyline is still three years off. 
> 
> Translations are minimal, but what there is, is at the end as per usual. 
> 
> Enjoy all!

[](https://imgur.com/XN3raiv)

Part 3: The Aftermath

Marina came awake to the mother of all hangovers. Which was regrettable, seeing as she was fairly certain that she hadn't gotten it the fun way. Groaning, she fumbled for the covers draped loosely across her waist and hauled them up over her head as she muttered in vitriolic Russian. The warm mass of another body in the bed beside her was comforting, if only because she knew who it belonged to, her neck screaming at her as she rolled into her lover. Burying her face in the hollow between his shoulder blades, she pressed her whole body alongside his and sighed happily. 

Will's tone was a low, warm purr as he whispered, “Morning, Marishka . . . you took a hell of a hit to the neck yesterday. I would feel better if you'd try to stay as still as you can until Vincent can take a look at it.”

Chuckling at the reminder of the family's erstwhile physician, she closed her eyes and nuzzled into his crook at the nape of his neck. For a long moment, they were both silent, before she squirmed slightly. “So . . . did we win?”

Will's shoulders vibrated under her forehead as he reached back to squeeze her hip, teasing, “Don't we usually?”

“ _Klassno_ ,” was the yawned response, the involuntary action causing a sharp wince as it stretched the muscles in her neck slightly. “Ouch.”

The Russian could hear the quicksilver eyes roll, even as the Colonel pushed himself over onto his back so that he could gather his partner into his embrace. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pressed a warm kiss to her temple as he sighed, “Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

“That was a yawn . . . trust me, I didn't want to do that anymore than you wanted me to.”

“I was talking about last night . . . when you took a blow that was meant for me,” the Colonel scolded, tilting his head downwards so that he could glare at her. 

“Like hell I'm going to let some fucked up harpy of a witch lay one hand on you . . . the only one laying hands on you, Mishka, is me.”

“I'm pretty sure she was trying to kill me, not seduce me.”

“She was a witch . . . in her mind, murder is probably step one to a successful seduction,” the Russian snarked with a roll of her eyes which promptly earned yet another wince. 

“Sometimes, _zhemchuzhina_ , your brain works in mysterious ways.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” she laughed lightly. “ _Vati_ told me about your idea to get the Winchesters away from their father.”

Will grinned as he shrugged the shoulder she wasn't laying on. “Is it a bad idea?”

“Of course it's not . . . it's a fantastic idea. I'm sure there are more hunters in this world than just Singer and Winchester. A paranormal activity department at S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to make use of the existing structure of hunters, as well as try to prevent some of the petty crime that these hunters use to be able to keep themselves in food, motels and gas.”

“Not to mention, it's an incentive to offer Winchester in exchange for separating him from his kids.”

“You think it'll be that easy?”

Her lover was quiet for a long time as he considered the question. Finally, he nodded against her temple. “Winchester is clearly hunting **something**. I don't know what it is nor do I particularly care. But hes borderline obsessive about it; the rush to get through the job, the need to be in complete charge, the neglect of his sons. It's pretty indicative of something going on.”

“So how do we play this then? 

“I want to say we handle him with kid gloves, but I don't think he'll take kindly to careful handling.”

“What do we do about the kids? The witches are dead; those kids should go home to their families.”

“I think it would probably be best if we didn't have an audience to our conversation with Winchester. He doesn't strike me as the kind who appreciates being watched. So, we send the kids back to town with Dad and the boys. And while they're gone? We deal with Winchester.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Marina agreed, wincing once again as she moved to shove herself upwards. “But first . . . do we have any Tylenol anywhere? I could kill someone for a decent painkiller.”

“We've got the prescription strength ibuprofen in the first aid kit or we've got Tylenol with codeine. Whichever one you want.”

“Probably the ibuprofen. I get drunk on codeine. Probably a good idea to stay sober until we've talked to Winchester.”

“Ibuprofen it is then,” he agreed, pushing himself to his feet before reaching back to offer her a hand. “Need some help?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, though her tone held no heat and only caused a small smirk from her lover. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her smoothly to her feet, the action so easy that she barely jostled her sore neck at all. “Thank you, Mishka.”

Will chuckled as he reached up to cup her cheeks between his palms, bending to rest his forehead against her own. “Do me a favor. Next time someone comes at me with a bludgeon . . . just let them hit me.”

“Not gonna happen, Misha. Not ever.”

Several hours later, when Winchester finally made his way from his tent, Will and Marina were the only two Grimms left in camp. The Colonel had dragged his brothers out of their beds and explained the situation as soon as the two officers had left their tent. As a result, the still sleeping children had been gathered into trucks, cars and SUVs and the younger members of the Brothers Grimm had headed off to return them to their homes. 

As a result, Marina was seated at the fire pit, sprawled on the ground between her partner's legs. His abdomen was acting as her pillow, as the two talked quietly and passed a single mug of coffee between them. Looking up at him as she passed the mug back to her lover, she mocked, “Kinda late morning for you, isn't it, Winchester?”

He glared at her, earning a smirk from the woman's lover as he gestured toward the kitchen set up. “There's coffee on the stove, if you want some. And then, we should talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he growled, narrowing his eyes angrily.

“That's all right . . . you can just listen then.”

Growling, Winchester stormed in the direction of the kitchen. Marina looked up at her partner and accepted the mug back with a grin, as she teased, “This is going to be fun.”

“Oh yeah . . . loads of fun.”

Sipping around her grin, she settled back into the curve of his body and watched as the older hunter took a seat on the log across from them. “I have no interest in anything you have to say. I just want to pack up our gear and get the hell out of here. I have a hunt to get back to.”

“Yeah . . . I know. Which is why I think you should be interested in the job I'm about to offer you.”

Black eyes narrowed as they took in the steady features of the man seated across from him. “ **You** want to offer **me** a job?”

Will's mouth twisted sardonically as he mocked, “Shocking, isn't it? Frankly, I can't believe I'm going to do it either. However, there is clearly something you want . . . something you want even more than you want your sons' happiness . . . and I am willing to help you get it.”

“With conditions,” was Marina's interjection when Winchester narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Conditions? What kind of conditions?”

“If you take this job, this becomes a **job**. And what's more, you and I are both well aware of the dangers that come from a job like this. It's not a job you can take your sons along with you.”

“So what do you suggest? I can't just leave them!”

“Why not? You've clearly done it before. We had to stop an hour out of our way, because we had to go pick them up from the motel you had decided was home during this op,” Will reminded the man, one eyebrow cocking upwards at the flush that crept across the older man's features. 

Marina leaned sideways slightly and grabbed something out of sight, before lifting it up for the hunter to see. “This is an EMF reader; your son, Dean? He made it out of a walkman. It's hella impressive.”

“Whatever it is that you're hunting, you want it bad. But you don't have to bring your sons into your personal vendetta. They could have real lives . . . they could change the world. They just need the chance to.”

“So what are your conditions?'

“ _Samonik_ is still young . . . still in high school. And Dean? Dean has his whole life ahead of him; it's not fair to him to ask him to raise his own brother. He could be in college; I'm serious, this right here!? It's amazing! He has real talent!” Marina insisted, gesturing with the jury-rigged EMF reader once again. 

Winchester barked out a bitter laugh. “You obviously have the wrong kid. Dean dropped out of high school as soon as he was allowed. He ain't gonna want to go to college; he's gonna want to be a hunter with me. Offer him a job too.”

“I can't. S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits are required to have either a college degree or a validated service record. The latter of which, you have; I checked. Dean has neither of these; and without a GED, he won't be able to do either.”

Winchester grunted, his tone grudging as he replied, “He has a GED. Sam insisted.”

“All right then, college is well within his grasp. Of course, he could always join the military too. But I don't think that's anything he'd want to consider; puts him too far from his little brother.”

“So I just put down roots? Work a nine to five at this job? Make a home for my boys? That dream died with my Mary. I want the thing that killed her . . . that's all that matters . . . it's all that's **ever** mattered.”

“And I understand that; I'm asking you to do exactly what you're doing now,” Will insisted, accepting the coffee mug back from Marina without looking, quicksilver eyes firmly fixed on the older hunter as he took a long drink. “Trekking around the country, hunting these things to keep the ordinary people who don't know that they exist safe. In exchange, you get paid. No more petty crime to keep yourself in cash. You just can't take your sons like you used to.”

“So what do you want me to do with them?”

Marina leaned back further into her lover, cocking an eyebrow in question. Will nodded, taking another drink as he let his partner take over. The Russian looked back at Winchester with a small smile, “We would like your permission to take Sam and Dean into our home. My Jason . . . he and Tony could get Dean into MIT, no problem. Once the two of them got finished touting his skills, MIT would be begging to take him. And Sam . . . he's brilliant. I doubt he'll even finish high school; we could get him graduated early and into a good college by fall. Harvard, Columbia, NYU . . . anywhere he wanted.”

“And what good is college going to do to a hunter?”

“Anthropology . . . world religions . . . cultural studies . . . all of these are majors that would have applicable uses for a hunter. And Dean's clearly a gifted engineer; I don't doubt that he couldn't build more than a few things a hunter would find useful, once he has the education to be able to fine tune his skills.” Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, she implored him sincerely, “I'm asking you to allow us to give your sons a life. You have chosen your path, and for you, it's the right one. Your sons have a chance to do something different, something that makes them happy.” Pausing, she considered his face before deciding to take the risk, “Isn't that what your Mary wanted when they were born?”

Will's hand on her shoulder squeezed gently, reminding her to lean back so that the older hunter didn't feel crowded. Slouching back into her lover's belly, the woman consciously relaxed her muscles and let her head flop back against his abdomen. The Colonel's features were warm and adoring as he smoothed tender fingers through her hair, before bending to press an awkward kiss to the bow of her lips. “You did good. Let him think it out,” he murmured against her skin, before straightening up and taking another drink of the coffee. 

Nodding once in agreement, she contented herself with cuddling close. She could see the older man seated across from them, devastation scrawling across his face as he was reminded of the life he'd dreamed of with his deceased wife. Marina was a mother, regardless of how unconventionally she'd gotten the job. Sammy was her son as were the younger Grimms; she had been gifted with two newborn daughters of her own just months ago. She knew exactly what knife to twist to convince him to give his sons' happiness a chance to flourish. Smiling up at her longtime partner, she breathed out sweetly, “ _Ya lyublyu tebya, moya Mishka._ ”

“ _Lyublyu tebya, samaya malen'kaya,_ ” he replied, a warm smile on his lips as he bent to kiss her once again. 

There was a long silence, before Winchester leaned forward on his elbows. His hands came up to scrub over his features, as he sighed, “All right. I'll take the job. But I want to tell my sons.”

“I don't think anyone is going to begrudge you that chance,” Will insisted, watching the other man with steady grey eyes. “The rest of our boys and Dad are getting the kids home to their families. Marina and I will get out of your way so that you can tell them.” Pushing himself to his feet, he offered the other man a hand and insisted, “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Nodding briskly, Winchester watched as the Colonel assisted his partner from her seat in the dirt. Wrapping his arm around her waist as she swayed slightly, he coaxed her inexorably back to their tent. “Come on, Marishka, you can afford to get some rest while we wait for the boys to get back to camp.”

“What about breakfast?”

“For once, I think the boys can fend for themselves. Come on . . . it's time to get some real pain killers into you.”

“But Misha!” she protested faintly, even as she sagged into his side. 

Scooping her up into his arms, the Colonel's tone was inarguable as he insisted, “This is not negotiable, Lt. Colonel Petrovka.”

Huffing, she argued, “If I could see straight, I can assure you that this wouldn't be over, Colonel Grimm.”

Chuckling, the blond asked fondly, “Am I ever going to win with you?”

“Of course not. I like it when you give me diamonds,” she yawned, before tucking her head under his chin and allowing him to carry her into the tent without further complaint. 

As soon as they were gone, Winchester ducked his head over his coffee mug. His own sons would be up soon; he was going to need to figure out what to say to them. He had a feeling that Sam wouldn't complain too much, but Dean . . . his stalwart soldier was going to take some convincing. If all else failed, John could make it an order and Dean would comply as he always had. 

It was an hour later than Dean emerged from the tent, making a beeline towards where the coffee was still keeping warm on the camp stove. Sam was only steps off his brother's heels, chuckling at the zombie-like appearance of his brother as he dragged himself into the kitchen. The younger brother's laughter choked off at the sight of their father still seated at the fire pit. All of his gear was packed and sitting in the dirt beside him and Sam's heart sunk at the thought that they wouldn't even be able to say goodbye to the Grimms. He'd grown to like the family a lot over the last few days, and knowing that he would probably never see them again was a little depressing. “We leaving already?” he asked meekly, even as his blood boiled and every inch of him longed to rebel. 

There was a long pause, before the older man insisted, “You're not . . . I am though.”

Dean frowned, eyebrows furrowing over his coffee mug as he asked, “Did you find a new hunt already? If you can afford to wait ten minutes, we can pack up and leave with you.”

“You're not coming with me this time, Dean.”

Startled, the older brother blinked at his father before asking, “You want us to wait for you here? I mean . . . yeah, okay, but I'm pretty sure that most of this gear belongs to the Grimms.”

Sighing, John Winchester shoved his hands back through his hair as he insisted, “You're not coming with me ever again, Dean. You're gonna go home with the Grimms . . . they're going to take care of you from now on.”

Sam could see his brother gearing up for an argument and broke in first, asking, “Why?”

“Grimm and Petrovka offered me a job with their organization, doing exactly what I'm doing now . . . being a hunter . . . helping people and hunting things.”

“So why can't we go with you? We always have before.”

“Before, it was always just us. One of the conditions of the job was that I couldn't take you with me. The two are going to take you in, give you a home. Sam's gonna get to go to an actual school without having to worry when I'm going to yank him out.”

“Why can't they offer me a job too? I've been hunting with you for years.”

“Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits are required to have a service record or a college degree. Trust me, I tried to get them to offer you a job too.” Leaning forward on his elbows, he continued, “They were both really impressed by you, Dean. They think they can get you into MIT, to become an engineer.”

“I don't want to be an engineer, I want to be a hunter with you!”

“No . . . you need to stay close to Sammy. He's still your responsibility, Dean, just like always. Since I'm going to be gone now, you're gonna be the last line of defense for him.”

Biting his lip at the rebellious look on his brother's face, Sam chimed in quietly, “And if you think about it, Dean, if you become an engineer, just think of all the things you could put together that would help hunters across the country. And once you have your degree, there's no reason that you can't become a hunter with S.H.I.E.L.D. I'll be in college by then; you won't need to protect me so much. I'll be old enough to be on my own.”

Dean frowned, as he slumped downwards. “Whatever.”

John's mouth turned downwards as he barked, “Shape up, Dean. I need to catch the thing that killed your mother. And you need to take care of your brother. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” was the sullen agreement, mumbled into his coffee mug. 

Pushing himself to his feet, John grabbed up his gear and slung the knapsack over one shoulder. “I want you boys to be on your best behavior. Do your mother proud. And for her sake . . . be happy.”

“Yes sir,” was the simultaneous response, earning a firm nod from their father before he turned towards his truck. Tossing his bags into the bed, he hauled open the door of the cab before pausing. Fiddling with his keys, he turned back with a frown, “I love you boys . . . I want you both to know that. This is going to be the best thing for you both.” 

Sam's smile was small as he replied, “Love you too, Dad. We'll be all right. The Grimms are good people. They'll take good care of us.”

Giving his youngest a tight-lipped smile, John replied, “I know.”

Swinging up into the cab of his truck, he shoved his key into the ignition and roared the old truck to life. One hand came out the window to wave at his sons once more, before the truck shifted into gear and backed away from camp. Gears ground as it shifted into drive and before long, the black GMC truck was out of sight. For a long time, the Winchester sons stayed motionless, before at last Will emerged once again from the tent. 

Sam turned to look at the eldest Grimm, asking carefully, “So . . . what happens now?”

“Now? Now, we pack up the gear, pack the trucks, and go home. It's a two day haul from here, so the sooner we get packed up the sooner we can get onto the road. If the two of you can get your gear together and handle your tent, we'll be one step closer to getting out of here.”

“Yes sir,” was Sam's response, to which the Colonel grinned and replied, “Don't call me sir. I work for a living.”

“So what do we call you?” Dean asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed at the older man. 

The Colonel grinned as he replied, “How about Will? We'll see how it goes from there.”

“Sounds good. We'll get ready to go,” the younger brother announced, looking up at the older with a narrow eyed look. 

“All right. I want to get everything packed up and be ready to move out as soon as my brothers get back with my dad, Sammy and Aunt Gretel. That enough time for you to get your things together.”

“Yeah. More than enough.”

“Good. Let's get to it then. Marina's asleep; her head is killing her. So the sooner we can get home, the sooner Vincent can take a look at her.”

“Vincent? Who's Vincent?”

Will's grin was small as he replied, “Oh _Samonik_ , you just wait. There are branches of this family you ain't ever seen before.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Let's get to work. There are some people very anxious for us to get home already.”

Three days later, the Impala carrying the two Winchester boys trailed along behind the Grimms as they drove onto S.H.I.E.L.D.'s main base outside of New York City. Sam's eyes were wide as they tried to take in everything all at once. “Dean . . . I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.”

Dean's own eyes were awestruck as he watched the Grimms pull into the driveway of a large home with another dozen people standing out on the front lawn. One was very pregnant and was almost immediately attacked by Braddock, who swung her up and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her. Marina was immediately beside two of the women, already cooing over the infants in their arms as her hands reached to take the child from the redhead, her partner coming forward to take the second child from the brunette. At which point, both women were mobbed by Jason and Aaron respectively. Hansel greeted another woman, also carrying a newborn, with a warm kiss, while Gretel actually jumped onto a tall, broad-shouldered blond in khakis and plaid button down, the two laughing as they toppled to the ground together. 

Turning to his little brother, Dean's only reply was one of near reverent awe. “Welcome to a whole New World, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Klassno - awesome  
> (R) zhemchuzhina - pearl (one of Will's lesser used nicknames for his partner)  
> (G) Vati - Dad (Marina's nickname for Hansel Kuhn)  
> (R) Samonik - Sammy-baby (Marina's nickname for Sam Winchester)  
> (R) (Ya) lyublyu tebya - (I) love you  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for his partner)  
> (R)


	4. The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, here we are, at the end of this little adventure. 
> 
> This part isn't long, kinda like a Post-Credits scene in a Marvel Movie. But I thought it was important to add. And don't worry, we have not seen the last of the Winchesters. We're just not there yet.

[](https://imgur.com/XN3raiv)

Part 4: Epilogue

January 15, 2010

Dear Dad, 

So, it's been awhile since we heard from you. Herr Kuhn said that he could get a letter to you, if I wanted to write one. So here we go. 

New York City is amazing! The Grimms live on a military base outside the city limits, but the Colonel pulled some strings so that I could sit for the SHSAT, even though I'm technically too old. I passed with a 680 and as a result, I'm currently attending Brooklyn Latin School, a specialized public school in Brooklyn. It's awesome, Dad; I think I speak more Latin than my Latin _magister_ does. I'm a sophomore again this year, mostly because we moved around so much that my records are all over the place. Either way, I don't want to miss the class trip to Italy senior year. (Marina says to tell you that she's already spoken to the organizers and she's been guaranteed a chaperone spot that year, so don't worry.) I have to wear a uniform, but I don't even care. There's so many things to learn here and I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you let Marina and the Colonel take us home with them.

Marina's been helping me look into colleges. I'm thinking of Columbia; it's got a great Anthropology department. They have a Latin program and their classes on folklore and mythology are pretty extensive. And if I did decide that I wanted to continue my education and go to law school, the Colonel said he'd give me a recommendation to any law school of my choice after graduation. 

Dean's in Cambridge at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Apparently, Tony Stark tested him at the Colonel's insistence and liked him so much he dragged both him and Jason Grimm off to Boston without so much as a “by your leave.” However it happened, the two got him a meeting with the Dean of Admissions and he started school last semester. By all reports, he's pretty happy there. (And yeah, I mean THE Tony Stark, Dad. How awesome is that!? Tony's kinda hilarious, when he's not sleep-deprived, which is pretty much all the time. But still, the Colonel and Marina know TONY fucking STARK!) 

Mr. Stark told Dean he'd pay for him to attend MIT, but you know Dean. His pride is pretty legendary at this point. The Colonel wrote him a recommendation for the Army ROTC program on campus, and he seems to enjoy it. Apparently, it's not unlike the training we did when we were still with you. He was just promoted to Squad Leader, effective from the beginning of this semester. Considering how briefly he's been there, it's kind of a big deal. I'm not surprised, and if you're actually reading this, I'm pretty sure that you're not either. Dean's always been a good soldier. 

Oh, that reminds me. Remember Dean's boyhood crush on Captain America? You'll never believe who Gretel's boyfriend is. Yeah, the Cap himself. Steve's really nice, though he has a mouth like a sailor. Marina threatened to wash it out once when he said “fuck” in front of the babies. I'm pretty sure you could see his blush in Miami. 

The Colonel says you're super busy on assignment, and that you're getting closer to the thing that killed Mom. I don't remember her, but I know how important it is to both you and Dean. I hope you find it and that you come back safely. 

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we're doing okay here. I hope you get this and that it finds you well. Don't worry about us. We're all right. 

We love you, Dad. We'll see you soon?

Your son, 

Sam.

P.S. Before I forget. Dean's on a weekend thing for ROTC, so he's not here this weekend. But if he was, I know he'd add something to this too. I'll make sure to grab him on the next one. Promise. Bye Dad. Love you.

********************

Dark brown eyes held an unseen smile as they scanned over the last two words handwritten at the bottom of the page, thumb trailing over them gently. It had been a long time since his Sammy had told him that he loved him. At least he'd finally done something right by his kid. 

Reading over the words one last time, John Winchester folded the letter carefully and tucked it back into its envelope for safe keeping. Smoothing the wrinkles consciously, he tucked it into an inside pocket of his leather jacket, vowing to buy something to keep the letters in as they came. This was the first he'd gotten, but with any luck, it wouldn't be the last. 

Slipping the jacket on, his face smoothed out and he promptly forgot the letter. He had a ghost that needed to be salted and burned. Dark had long since fallen and he was burning moonlight. After this, he was off to Mississippi to track down a rumor of the yellow-eyed bastard. The demon was still hunting children, changing them in their cribs and bathing them in their mother's blood. He was building an army . . . a Demon Army with one specific leader at its head. 

Brushing gentle fingers over the place where the letter rested against his chest, he made a silent vow to himself and to whatever God was out there. He would save his son from Ole Yellow Eyes. And if he couldn't . . . he'd kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this, and I hope you can take the time to put a comment at the end if you've enjoyed it. Hearing from you makes all of this worth it. 
> 
> And Alek, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!! I'm glad you enjoyed your birthday present. 
> 
> P.S. So Jeremy Renner is going to be at Chicago WizardCon this year. And I'm hoping to go and get him to sign a mock up cover of the UALP. Anyone interested in helping me get there? With a 4 year old, money is tight and a little help would go a long way. Let me know! Thank you to everyone who's enjoyed this series over the last three years. Can you believe it will be THREE YEARS IN AUGUST? AAH! Love you all! You're all amazing!


End file.
